


Last one Standing

by RivanWarrioress



Series: Last one Standing [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alpha Talia Hale, Alternate Reality, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Talia Hale, Back to the Future References, Cannon up to end of Season 3B, Claudia Stilinski Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Full Shift Werewolves, Hale Pack, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, McCall Pack, Multi, Out of Body Experiences, PTSD Stiles, Pack Mom Melissa McCall, Pack Mom Talia Hale, Panic Attacks, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash, Stiles Has Issues, Stiles Has Panic Attacks, Stilinski Family Feels, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death, True Alpha Scott McCall, pre-Sterek - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 67,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2417921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivanWarrioress/pseuds/RivanWarrioress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I wish that Derek didn’t lose his family in the fire...that Peter didn’t kill Laura that night and then bite Scott.  I wish they’d all been able to live out happy lives."</p><p>Stiles thought that after the Nogitsune there would be time to rest and recover.  He was wrong, with a deadly Necromancer arriving in Beacon Hills less than a month after Allison's death, leaving a path of death and destruction in it's wake.  Scott, Kira, Derek and Stiles are able to defeat the Necromancer, but pay a heavy cost.</p><p>Now Stiles is the only one left, the only surviving member of the pack.  There isn't anybody left in Beacon HIlls alive that he ever cared about.  Nearly catatonic with his grief, Stiles packs a bag and plans to leave Beacon HIlls behind, but exhaustion and heavy rain combine forces, and a wishful though becomes more than just a thought, but a reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sterek Au Parallel Universe Story Gifset](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/77318) by alphahalestilinski. 



> This fic was inspired by this gifset http://alphahalestilinski.tumblr.com/post/94965298453/s-t-e-r-e-k-a-u-parallel-universe by alphahalestilinski on tumbr

Oblivious to the storm that raged overhead, Stiles Stilinski gazed vacantly at the wall in front of him, ignorant to the way the dirty floor he was sitting on groaned beneath his weight, as if it was at risk of giving way beneath him and sending him plummeting through the floor. It was a very real danger, considering Stiles was sitting on the floor of Derek’s second floor bedroom in the old, mostly burned down, Hale family home, and in the deepest recesses of Stiles mind he knew that he needed to move...but the majority of his mind, and his body, couldn’t bring itself to do anything about the danger.

 

Stiles wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting on the ground, his chin resting on his knee as he stared catatonically at Derek’s bedroom wall...minutes...hours...days. The passing of time had become a blur...it meant absolutely nothing to him. There wasn’t anything left in the world that meant something to him. There was only pain and grief and guilt and death.

 

Everyone was gone. Erica and Boyd were killed by the Alpha pack, Jackson was killed, alone, by a hunter in London, Cora was with her pack in South America, Allison and Aidan were killed by the Oni under the order of the Nogitsune possessed Stiles. Malia and Peter were killed by Kate Argent, who was killed by Chris Argent, who got killed by a drunk driver of all things.

 

That was when SHE arrived in town. A Necromancer with more talent in her little finger that Deaton had in his entire body. He had been the first one taken out. Kira’s parents were murdered the same night. It seemed that the Necromancer wanted to obliterate every single member of the pack and those they were affiliated with. Even the new Deputy, Jordan Parrish, who had helped Stiles’ dad cover up a few supernatural investigations, and was seriously considering joining the pack legit, had been killed, his body found dumped in the river.    

 

It seemed only natural that Stiles’ dad and Scott’s mom were the next to pay the price for being dragged into the supernatural world by their sons, dying in each other’s arms as they were trapped in the McCall family home, eerily similar to the way Derek had lost his entire family.

 

Powerless, Scott and Stiles had watched on as the Necromancer had firebombed the McCall family home, unable to get to the house thanks to the Necromancer’s zombie like cronies who were very difficult to fight and kill.

 

A week later Lydia was killed when the necromancer blew up half of Beacon Hills high, along with Isaac, Coach Finstock, Lydia’s mom, Danny, Ethan, and severely injuring Scott. Even Liam, Scott’s newly bitten beta, still only a freshman, had been killed in the blast. Stiles still vividly remembered the charred smell of Scott’s skin as he dragged himself free from the burning ruins, Lydia’s final banshee scream still echoing in his ears.

 

Kira, Stiles and Derek had taken Scott and hidden out in the caves beneath the Hale house, where Kate Argent had once tortured Derek, while Scott healed from his wounds, although grief and the shock of loosing so many members of the pack had taken its toll, not only on Scott, but the others as well.

 

They’d lasted a few days before they were ambushed, close to the Nemeton. Stiles had taken a blow to the head not long into the battle, and he’d been knocked out. When he’d regained consciousness the woods had been quiet and still, eerily so, as if nothing living was within a mile of that place except for Stiles.

 

It became apparent Scott and Kira had been able to destroy the Necromancer, but not without a heavy price. They both lay not far from Stiles, obviously dead by the pallor of the skin. Derek lay partially on top of Stiles, his gurgled breaths laboured and weakening rapidly. Stiles blinked back tears as he remembered those last few minutes between him regaining consciousness and Derek dying in his arms, his abdomen and chest practically shredded by a spell cast by the Necromancer. Stiles had been the only one of the pack still alive to hold Derek as he died, trying to speed up Derek’s innate healing powers, even though the logical side of his brain, the part that sounded like Lydia, was telling him that it was hopeless...that Derek was as good as dead, even with his werewolf healing.

 

“Stiles...you...you have to keep going...don’t...don’t give up.” Derek had croaked out in between coughing up mouthfuls of blood. Stiles had sobbed and shaken his head, knowing that, without his dad, the pack, and Scott’s mom, he didn’t have anything worth going on for. Everyone he had ever cared about or loved was dead or dying (in Derek’s case), and Stiles had nowhere to go to. Beacon Hills was the only home he’d ever known, and there would be nothing left for him there once Derek died.

 

“Don’t leave me,” Stiles had begged Derek, “Don’t go. Derek, come on, please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone. You can do this; just...just don’t die on me...please. I can’t lose you too.”

 

“I’m sorry Stiles,” Derek had whispered, his lips stained with blood, before he exhaled one last time, and went limp. Stiles had pressed his fingers to Derek’s neck, searching in vain for a pulse, but he was unable to find one. Derek, the second last member of both the McCall Pack and the Hale Pack, was dead.

 

Alone, Stiles had dug graves for Scott, Kira and Derek, in a clearing not far from the Hale house, as far from the Nemeton as possible, burying them the same way Derek had buried Laura’s remains, with the wolfsbane spiral surrounding the grave. He buried Scott and Derek next to one another...finally the pack brothers that Derek had tried to make them be from day one. Kira was buried on Scott’s other side, the young lovers together forever.

 

Single handily, Stiles had carried them from the Nemeton to the clearing, not trusting himself to go into Beacon Hills and getting help, or even reporting the deaths. It wasn’t like anyone would care about three missing teenagers and the reclusive Derek Hale...not after the bombing of the high school and everything else that had been happening in the town. If anyone saw Stiles he’d probably be arrested or be attacked by a lynch mob of people who had realised there was a connection between all the stuff that had happened in the town, and Stiles and his friends.

 

Since that fateful day when he’d buried what was left of his family, Stiles hadn’t left the ruins of the Hale mansion, unable to draw himself out of his grief to consider moving from his current position. Occasionally he’d eat, or sleep, but the food tasted like ash in his mouth, and even the shortest nap ended in vivid nightmares that left Stiles screaming, although there was no-one around to hear it.

 

The day after Derek died Stiles’ phone rang for the first time since the school had blown up. It had been Cora, demanding Stiles give her news about what the hell was going on in Beacon Hills. She’d felt Derek’s death through their old pack bond, weak as it was, and was overcome with grief at her brother’s death. Stiles had quietly told her everything that had happened since she’d left town, his voice shaking, thick with emotions that he couldn’t even begin to bring himself to come to terms with, before staying quiet as Cora ranted screaming insults down the phone at Stiles, blaming him for the death of everyone, not just Derek, but Peter and Malia, Scott and Lydia and Allison and Isaac as well. Stiles took it all in, a place in his head accepting every word Cora said as fact. In his heart he’d always felt that his mother’s death was his fault, and Allison and Aidan’s was definitely his fault as well. Why not add Derek and Scott and everyone else to the list?

 

Eventually, having run out of insults for Stiles, Cora had told him that if she ever saw him again, she would personally kill him, before hanging up. Stiles had taken his battery out of his phone after that. Cora was the only one left he’d had to contact. Now there was no-one.

 

One day rolled into the next, a storm front causing heavy rains and loud thunderstorms over Beacon Hills. Stiles stayed where he was in the old Hale family house, even though the roof leaked and everything was covered in dust

 

Before Stiles knew it a week had passed, and the passing of time had taken a heavy toll on Stiles’ body. Stiles’ weight, already lower than normal from gus possession by the Nogitsune, had plummeted, leaving Stiles looking near skeletal, his ribs and hip bones jutting out, his skin stretched over the bone. Dark shadows marked the skin beneath his eyes like giant bruises in the skin. In the reflection of one of the few windows in the house that isn’t broken Stiles could tell that he looked eerily like what he had donewhen he was possessed.

 

Mentally too Stiles knew he was losing his grip. He’d started nervously counting his fingers again; something that he’d stopped doing a couple of weeks after the possession. Aside from screaming in his sleep he was silent, going longer without talking than he had since infancy, and even then he’d babbled away a lot, even though it wasn’t recognizable words. He hadn’t even been this quiet when his mother had died...mainly because Scott had been there to stop him from being completely overwhelmed by his grief. Now though Scott wasn’t there to help him.

 

A couple of times Stiles considered ending it all. They had some guns at the house; his dad’s spare was one of them. Stiles knew how to load it, and it would be easy for him to put a bullet in his head. They had knives too. Kira’s katana was buried with her, but they had other knives that would be just as effective at ending Stiles’ life, just as he’d been prepared to do to defeat the Nogitsune. The Jeep was parked outside the house, and Stiles knew the tank was full. He could siphon fuel from the tank and pour it over himself and then light a match, just like Scott had tried that horrible night at the motel.   He could jump off the roof, or walk to the river and drown himself there. He could drive off the cliff at the lookout, if he wanted to go that way. The opportunities were endless. Stiles was only a human...he was very fragile and easy to kill. He’d learned that from watching so many of his friends and family be taken away.    

Every time he considered the possibility of ending his life, however, there was a part of Stiles that refused to let him give up, that made him keep fighting, to live on for those who couldn’t. With every day that passed that part of him grew weaker, but it was still there. Suicide wasn’t an option...not yet anyway.

 

Still, Stiles knew that he couldn’t stay at the Hale House for much longer. It was only going to be a matter of time before somebody noticed something and reported it to the police. Every single person who worked at the Beacon County Sherriff’s office knew Stiles’ jeep on sight, and Stiles knew that he’d be dragged back into town if he was found.  

 

And staying in Beacon Hills was simply not an option.

 

Ten days after Scott, Kira and Derek died; Stiles finally crept out of the Hale House. It was still raining heavily, just like it had been for the last week and a half, but Stiles didn’t care. The ground outside the Hale house was muddy, and Stiles noted that the Jeep had sunk a little into the mud. It was lucky that he had no intention of taking the Jeep with him, because getting it out of the mud on his own would have been difficult.

 

Leaving his backpack on the front porch, Stiles stepped out into the rain, approaching the battered blue Jeep. He put his hand on the cold metal, wiping away raindrops.

 

“We had a good run, didn’t we Roscoe...A lot of good memories? A lot of crap memories too, I guess” Stiles croaked out, his voice scratch from lack of use, and from the emotions that made Stiles’ voice tight. The blue Jeep had once belonged to his mother. It had been the car that his parents had used to bring him home from the hospital. Stiles had dreamed of the day when he would finally turn 16 and be able to claim Roscoe as being his. Tears rolled down his face as Stiles was overcome with emotions, and he leaned his head forward, resting it against the bonnet, oblivious to the fact that he was steadily being drenched by the heavy rain.

 

Stiles cried for what felt like hours, crying for his mother and father, for Derek, for Scott and Melissa, for Allison and Lydia, for Erica and Boyd, for Isaac and Jackson, for Malia and Liam, for Coach Finstock and Greenberg, for Ethan and Aidan...even for Peter.

 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles sobbed, “I’m sorry I’m leaving you behind, Roscoe. Maybe you’ll find a new home and you won’t have to deal with a spazz like me that drives you into trees or picks up werewolves that have been shot and leave blood all over the seats. I just...I can’t stay here...and I don’t know if I can take you where I’m going. I’m going to miss you Roscoe.”

    

Stiles patted the bonnet of the jeep twice, before he turned and picked up his backpack, loaded up with a change of clothes, Stiles’ wallet, his laptop, complete with the fully up to date Bestiary that he, Lydia and Allison had worked so hard on, safe within its heavily padded waterproof case, as well as the small satchel of herbs and oils that Derek had collected from Deaton’s office after the vet had been killed. Stiles also had a couple of protein bars, his favourite supernatural reference book, and the photo album that Lydia had given him for Christmas, filled with photos of Stiles’ family and the pack.

 

Looking up at the house, Stiles swallowed, memories of the pack, both good and bad, washing over him.

 

“I’m gonna miss you guys,” Stiles croaked out, turning his back on the house and beginning to walk away from it. He looked over his shoulder once, back towards the spot where Derek, Scott and Kira were buried, before he wiped his eyes one last time and walked away from the house, knowing that, in all likelihood, he probably never come back.

 

Trekking through the forest, Stiles walked north, knowing that he would eventually reach the next largest town in Beacon County, after Beacon Hills itself, where he would be able to get a bus out to Sacramento. Where he went after that, he wasn’t sure.

 

The trees were dense in this part of the preservation, and the path was slippery and muddy due to the rain that continued to fall from the sky. Within minutes Stiles was completely drenched and lightly shivering, his malnourished body unable to regulate his body temperature in these conditions. The ground in front of Stiles tilted, and he belatedly realised that maybe attempting the fourteen mile journey while he had been barely eating and sleeping for over a week maybe hadn’t been one of his best ideas. Determined, however, Stiles pressed on, ignoring the way he stumbled over hidden roots and rocks and fallen tree branches, slipping and sliding in the mud.

 

Stiles was about six miles into his journey when the inevitable happened. The rain falling from the sky had left Stiles drenched and shivering from the cold, early signs of hyperthermia settling in, although Stiles could do little about it. His spare change of clothes would probably be just as wet as what he was. Exhaustion and starvation had also taken a heavy toll, Stiles’ vision blurring and tilting dangerously, darkness building in the corners of his eyes, like dark grey cobwebs that progressively became thicker and thicker and took up more and more of Stiles’ vision in between blinks.  Stiles was no longer walking north, but instead spiralling around as if he were lost, going in circles, staggering around the preservation as if he was drunk.

 

It was while Stiles was walking along a narrow dirt path that went along the top of a steep decline that he finally fell, his feet slipping out from beneath him and sending him rolling down the hill. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut until he’d stopped moving, lying in the mud at the bottom of the hill.  

 

His body aching, Stiles bit his lip and began slowly testing his body out for any injuries. His shoulder was sore, and Stiles suspected that he’d have a good bruise there in the not so distant future. His side hurt from where he’d landed on a rock at some point during his tumble, but Stiles guessed that at most he’d bruised one of his ribs. There was a shallow gash to his knee, and his head was throbbing keenly, although Stiles wasn’t sure if that was the result of the fall, or if his exhaustion and malnutrition was the culprit. Still, considering the fall, Stiles had escaped without too many serious injuries.

 

Wincing as his sore shoulder and side protested the movement, Stiles sat up and removed his back pack, planning on checking how the things inside had fared. He’d packed it so that his spare clothes had been offering additional protection to the breakables, but it had been a nasty tumble.

 

Thankfully the rain had briefly stopped, allowing Stiles to risk opening up the bag to inspect the damage. Luckily Stiles’ laptop, protected by his spare clothes and the waterproof padded case appeared to have survived the tumble without damage. The same could not be said for the box of various herb and plant filled jars and vials that Derek had collected from Deaton’s just after the emissary’s death, to prevent it falling into the hands of the Necromancer. Two of the jars had smashed, their contents mixing together in the bottom of the box.

 

“Shit,” Stiles swore when he took in the damage, dipping his hand into the box to scoop some of the combined powders in his hand, letting it trickle through his fingers. There was a little voice in the back of his head, one that sounded like Derek, screaming at him, telling him that putting his hand into unknown substances was a stupid idea, but Stiles disregarded it, watching transfixed as the powder trickle through his fingers. Never before in his life had Stiles ever felt so alone than he had in that moment, sitting in the middle of the preservation, alone and absolutely drenched.

 

“I wish that none of this had happened,” Stiles whispered, tears filling his eyes as he spoke, “I wish that none of them had died. Dad and Melissa, Derek and Scott and Kira, Lydia and Allison, Isaac, Erica and Boyd, Liam and Malia and Deaton, even Jackson. I wish that Derek didn’t lose his family in the fire...that Peter didn’t kill Laura that night and then bite Scott. I wish they’d all been able to live out happy lives.”

 

The last of the powder trickled through Stiles’ fingers as he finished talking, and Stiles' vision blurred. Weakness washed over him like a wave, dragging him down into the oblivion of unconsciousness. Stiles fought for awareness, fighting the urge to lie back down and pass out, but he couldn’t hold off the darkness, and the world tilted sideways, everything fading to black as Stiles keeled over onto his uninjured side, unconscious to all that was happening around him.     


	2. Chapter 1

It was the chirping of birds that Stiles heard first as he slowly regained consciousness. The muddy ground he lay on was the next thing he noticed, as well as the dull ache in his body. Frowning, Stiles opened his eyes, lifting his head cautiously. The movement didn’t hurt his head too much, so he continued to sit up. He was sitting alone in the preservation, his backpack beside him, with his laptop tucked inside, and Deaton’s box of things open in front of him. Memories washed back over him, both of his mad trek through the preservation, and the events that lead to him trying to leave Beacon Hills behind. Stiles closed his eyes in pain at the fresh memories, a few tears rolling down his cheeks, before he heaved a great sigh and glanced at his watch. By his estimate he must have been unconscious for a few hours, at least three, and he had no hope of getting to the next town before dark.   


Having no intention of actually being eaten by a mountain lion (although the irony appealed to Stiles’ tattered mind), Stiles knew that he would have to turn back towards Beacon Hills. The only problem was that he wasn’t entirely sure which direction that was in. He knew that he had lost the track that went north, and he didn’t have his phone with him to find out where he was using one of his apps.

 

Stiles was lost in the woods. He huffed to himself as he imagined the look on Derek’s face if he could see Stiles right now, the eye roll and the look that clearly was asking how on earth Stiles was the second smartest person in his year level. The look on his dad’s face would be even worse, the look of disappointment, frustration and concern that Stiles knew well.

 

Moving slowly, Stiles resealed the box containing Deaton’s things, and put it back into his backpack. The clothes he was wearing had mostly dried out, and a glance at the sky told him that the bad weather was clearing, large patches of pale blue sky being visible through the canopy of the trees. Putting his backpack on, Stiles got to his feet, his head a little clearer after a few hours of nightmare free sleep...or unconsciousness, whatever it was.

 

Now that he was on his feet though, Stiles was faced with the dilemma of which way to go in. His body was still a little battered and bruised from his fall, so he knew that trying to climb up the steep hill he’d fallen down wouldn’t be the wisest of ideas. Besides, the ground would probably be wet and slippery still, so chances were that he would slip and fall again, this time doing more damage that breaking a couple of jars...like breaking his neck.

 

Stiles instead looked in the opposite direction, where the ravine he was in continued onwards, running downhill. With a bit of luck, Stiles might encounter a trail or the road into Beacon Hills and be able to work his way back to the Hale house from there and try again tomorrow. Hitching his back up onto his shoulders a little better, wincing slightly as the movement jostled his sore shoulder, Stiles set off, following along the ravine and hoping that the Necromancer’s presence had been enough to send the mountain lions running into the deepest, highest reaches of the preservation.

 

TW

 

Stiles had walked for hours before he came across one of the jogging tracks that crisscrossed the public areas of the preservation, and he followed it until he found a marker where the path he was on intersected another path. Fortunately Stiles knew the preserve well enough to now know exactly where he was.

 

Now that he had his bearings, Stiles changed direction, walking along the jogging paths until he reached the point where the jogging paths went the closest to the unmarked border with the Hale family property. Stiles deviated off the path, heading uphill, towards the Hale property, ignoring the burning pain in his legs from the miles he had walked that day.

 

He had only been off the path for about ten minutes when Stiles heard footsteps approaching. He stiffened, glancing around, a year of knowing about the supernatural and generally fighting for his life making him jumpy and nervous.

 

Scanning the trees, Stiles looked for the source of the footsteps, knowing that if it was a supernatural creature they would easily hear how his heart rate had accelerated. A thought began at the back of his head, his mind, free of the adderal that helped him focus, caught the thought and raced with it. What it if was the Necromancer...what if Scott and Kira hadn’t been successful in killing it? What if it had simply been waiting for Stiles to leave the Hale house, and was now moving in to kill the last surviving member of the pack.

 

What if it was Cora, driven mad by the grief of losing her brother and coming to take her revenge on the one who had been with Derek as he died, being Stiles himself? Stiles wouldn’t stand a chance against a werewolf, sleep deprived and malnourished as he was.

 

What if it was the lynch mob of angry citizens of Beacon Hills who had made the connection between everything that had happened in town and Stiles...all of the parents of the kids that died in the bombing of the school that was supposed to take out the entire pack? Stiles knew he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to defend himself from those who had lost their children in the bombing, or who had lost loved ones because of the supernatural in Beacon Hills.

 

It was all, after all, Stiles’ fault. He’d been the one who started everything the night he dragged Scott out to look for a body in the woods. Everything that had happened since then...the hunters...the Kanima, the Alpha Pack, the Nemeton, the Nogitsune...the Necromancer...it all arched back to that night.

 

“Who are you?” a eerily familiar voice snapped from behind Stiles, and Stiles whipped around so fast his neck cracked, his jaw dropping as he took in the person standing there, glaring at him.

 

Derek Hale had his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, looking up and down at Stiles, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

 

“Derek...Derek it’s me. Stiles...Stiles Stilinski,” Stiles offered, wondering why on earth Derek didn’t look to recognise him. Maybe he’d somehow managed to get himself brought back from the dead...which was curious in itself, since he obviously managed to do it without Lydia (who had already been dead when Derek died), and in only just over a week. Peter had taken a lot longer to finally get resurrected. Maybe Derek had rushed the process and that’s why his memories were off.

 

Derek flinched in recognition when Stiles told him his name, and Stiles smiled, pleased to get some sort of reaction, even if it wasn’t an overly positive one.

 

“That’s not possible,” Derek said, shaking his head and glaring even harder at Stiles, his eyes flashing blue slightly. Stiles bit his lip, recognizing the signs of Derek’s rising anger.

 

“Stiles Stilinski is dead,” Derek added, and Stiles caught the slight grief in the older man’s voice at the sentence, as if it had physically hurt Derek to say it. It took a moment for what Derek actually said to sink in, and Stiles shook his head, his jaw dropping open.

 

“What?” he exclaimed in shock, reflexively rubbing the back of his head like he did when he was thrown off balance by something.

 

“Stiles Stilinski died saving me and my family from a house fire, seven years ago.” Derek clarified, although he was still glaring at Stiles, daring him to take another step closer. Stiles, instead, took a step back, completely unable to think of anything to say, for one of the first times of his entire life.

 

“This is private property,” Derek said, turning his back and walking away from Stiles “get out, and I won’t call the cops and get you arrested for trespassing, and I’ll know if you hang around here.”

 

Stiles watched, his mouth still hanging open, as Derek walked away, disappearing over a rise. Stiles knew Derek well enough to know when the werewolf was being serious, and the look on the older man’s face, as well as the sound in his voice, had told Stiles that the werewolf was serious, and that Stiles better go or risk bodily harm.

 

Turning on his feet, Stiles walked briskly back towards the public area of the preservation, knowing that risking going to the Hale house was simply not going to be an option.

 

He’d have to come up with another place to go to and figure out what the hell was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr http://rivanwarrioress.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 2

It was getting dark by the time Stiles staggered into Beacon Hills, but there wasn’t a lynch mob waiting for him when he got there, so he took that to be a good sign. Stiles guessed that the fact that nobody had approached him was due to the fact the Beacon Hills High School was still fully intact. Stiles had walked past it on his way into town, taking the short cut across the lacrosse field. There was no rubble, no burned out buildings, no broken windows, and no fire damaged lockers lying around. All was exactly as it should be.

 

And that in itself, was slightly disturbing. Not sure where to go next, Stiles’ stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly, so Stiles headed for the diner he liked going to. They had the best curly fries in town, and he ordered and paid for a bowl of the potato treat, as well as a soda, and found himself in a secluded booth in a corner. The first thing he did was count his fingers, and to do a quick count on the hands of the waitress that brought his soda over, and the old couple sitting by the window. Everyone had the correct number of fingers, so Stiles was reasonably certain that he was not dreaming.

 

The other reason he headed for the diner, other than to get some food, was because of the free wifi they had on offer. Stiles got out his laptop and powered it up. He paused when his background picture came up, a photo of him and Scott, taken way back before any of this happened, before Scott had been bitten and their lives had taken a turn for the weird. Stiles blinked and brushed a tear from his cheek, before he opened up the internet through the diner’s wifi. It was time for him to start doing what he did best...researching and investigating.

 

The first thing he did was bring up the websites for the local newspaper and radio broadcaster, searching through for any indication of anything unusual happening. It was like none of it had happened. There were no articles about the sudden death of the local vet, nor the murders of Scott’s mom and his dad. The school bombing, obviously, had never happened. Going back further, Stiles began checking death notices. The ones about Allison were absent, and so were Aidan’s, and a bubble of hope rose in Stiles chest, maybe they were still alive too.

 

Stiles frowned when he recalled what Derek had said...that Stiles Stilinski had died rescuing Derek and his family from a house fire seven years earlier...the same year that the Hale house fire had occurred.  Stiles had been ten years old when the Hale fire had taken place...he remembered that night, the fact that His dad had taken him with him out to the Hale’s house because he couldn’t get anyone to babysit Stiles at such short notice. It had been the one time Stiles hadn’t even been tempted to leave the security of the Sherriff’s car at a crime scene, the burning house had looked scary, and had haunted Stiles’ dreams for years afterwards.

 

On a whim, Stiles opened up Google and typed in ‘the Hale house fire’, before hitting enter. Within less than a second he had hundreds of news reports and articles. Stiles clicked on the article from the local newspaper, although there were articles from newspapers from all around the country...all over the world...It had been big news apparently. Stiles didn’t remember there ever being so many articles about it before.

 

Stiles tapped his fingers on the table as he waited for the article to download, smiling at the waitress when she brought over his order of curly fries.

 

“Is there anything else I can get you?” the waitress asked with a smile. Stiles hesitated before he shook his head. In the days pre Nogitsune Stiles would inhale a bowl of Curly Fries in less than five minutes, and then be looking for more, but he knew that he hadn’t been eating well lately, and he knew that his stomach would struggle to cope with too much food. It was possible that even Curly Fries might be too much for his starved system to handle.

 

“I’m good thanks” he told the waitress, who nodded and walked away. Stiles refocused his attention on the screen of the laptop, surprised to see a picture of his ten year old self staring back at him, the main picture attached to the article, along with a picture of the burned out Hale house.

 

“Boy Batman saves family from flames” the headline proclaimed. Stiles scrolled down to the main part of the article, and began to read it, his mind unusually focused, considering he hadn’t had an adderal in over a week. Facts and sentences leapt off the screen, burning themselves into his mind

 

_Local Boy Stiles Stilinski, aged 10, son of Sherriff John Stilinski is being heralded a hero after he selflessly went into the burning home of the Hale family yesterday afternoon and freed the entire family from where they were trapped in the basement._

_...dressed as comic book superhero Batman because of book week celebrations at his school..._

_...was hit in the head by a falling support and lost consciousness..._

_...was carried from the house by Derek Hale, 16._

_...serious head and chest trauma, along with smoke inhalation..._

_...was being given CPR when paramedics arrived._

_Stiles died en route to hospital from severe brain haemorrhaging,_

_Stiles’ father, recently made a widower, said to be shattered by loss of only child..._

_Kate Argent arrested on charges of murder, arson, attempted murder, conspiring to kill and statutory rape. Other arrests are expected._

_...Hale family have expressed the eternal gratitude to Stiles, and have vowed to do all they can to honour his memory and his selfless actions._

_Mayor has offered to personally pay for public funeral for Stiles..._

_Stiles’ friends, teachers and classmates undergoing grief counselling..._

By the time he had finished reading the article, Stiles’ eyes were wide in shock, and his stomach was churning. He opened up a new tab in his browser and brought up another article, this time from a news paper in LA. The article contained the same information, the same facts given in statements from the Beacon Hills Sherriff’s department, reporting about the death of the little boy who had been toddling around the Sherriff’s office since he was one.

 

Both of the articles were dated as being published on the 18th of May, 2005, two days after the Hale house fire. Stiles swallowed reflexively, fighting the urge to throw up. He copy and pasted the articles onto his computer’s hard drive, before he turned off the laptop, sliding it back into his backpack and leaning back in his chair. A newspaper sitting on an unattended table caught his eye, and he got up and picked it up, before returning to his feet, trying to ignore the way his legs trembled beneath his weight. He didn’t bother fully opening the paper out, instead glancing at the date printed on the front cover. The date matched with the date Stiles had expected it to be, so time travel seemed not to be a possibility.

 

Stiles frowned and drummed his fingers on the table, thinking about the facts. He had fallen in the woods and passed out, and when he had woken up and tried to re-enter pack land he’d been met by Derek...a very much alive Derek, and been told that he...Stiles Stilisnki, had died seven years earlier in the house fire that had claimed the lives of most of Derek’s family. Newspaper articles seemed to support Derek’s story, with none of Derek’s family listed as casualties.

 

Stiles sighed and got to his feet, knowing that he needed to keep going if he wanted information. Night had completely fallen outside the diner, and Stiles quietly paid his bill, leaving a tip for the smiling waitress, before he hiked his bag over his shoulder and walked out into the winter night. Stiles breathed in the cold night air, exhaling it in a puff of vapour. If What Derek said was right, and he was dead, then he couldn’t go to his dad...not without triggering some sort of heart attack....he didn’t have anywhere to go to.

 

Only...he did.

 

Stiles turned on his feet and walked as quickly as he could through the streets of Beacon Hills, until he reached the veterinary clinic. He stopped outside the building, biting his lip nervously. Deaton’s car was parked in its usual space, but other than that, and a couple of lights that were switched on inside, the lot was deserted. Stiles cautiously crept across the car park and approached the front door, taking in the closed sign and the lowered blinds with a single glance, before he gingerly rang the bell.

 

It didn’t take long for the door to be opened. Stiles nearly burst into tears at the sight of Alan Deaton. Despite the fact that the man was often cryptic, and only gave half the story, he’d always supported Scott and his pack, and he’d been instrumental in helping Stiles overcome the Nogitsune.

 

“We’re closed, Son, unless it’s an emergency come back in the morning.” Deaton told Stiles, looking him up and down suspiciously, obviously noticing that Stiles did not have a pet with him, and obviously came on foot, if the absence of a car was anything to go by.

 

“Look...I need help...Something...something weird has happened and you’re the only one I could think of.”

 

“You’ve come to the wrong place, kid. The Sherriff’s station is just down the road.”

 

“They aren’t going to be able to help me with this,” Stiles shook his head, dropping his voice until it was barely a whisper, “it has to do with...you know...things that go grr on a full moon...you know...werewolves.”

 

A look or mild surprise crossed Deaton’s face, and he glanced around, as if he was checking that Stiles was alone.

 

“You better come inside then,” Deaton finally remarked, stepping aside to allow Stiles into the clinic. Stiles felt a little part of him relax one the door was closed. He felt safe here in the clinic, reasonably sure that Scott’s boss wouldn’t hurt him in any way.

 

“Could I offer you something to drink...you look a little pale,” Deaton offered gently. Stiles nodded, rubbing his hand over his face and doing another quick count of his fingers, just to make sure.

 

“Yeah...a glass of water sounds good,”

 

Deaton gestured for Stiles to follow him, leading him into the surgery. He got Stiles a glass and filled it up from the tap.

 

“Now, tell me what you know about werewolves. You’re obviously not one, otherwise you wouldn’t be in here, and you’re not a member of the local pack...so I’m interested how a kid your age knew to come here for help when I’ve never met you in my life.”

 

Stiles swallowed, “Um...well, that’s just it, really. You do know me. My best friend works for you. I am a member of the local pack...really I’m the only one left. The other’s...they’re all gone...they all got killed, except for me, but then I saw Derek in the woods and he said I was the one that died...seven years ago, and I thought maybe you were still alive too, and I think I’m loosing my mind again because none of this makes any sense.” Stiles babbled. Deaton frowned and picked up a notebook and a pen, forcibly reminding Stiles of Ms. Morrel.

 

“Slow down...we’ll start with the basics. What is your name?”

 

“Stiles...Stiles Stilinski.”

 

Deaton froze in his chair and looked slowly up at Stiles, as if he was seeing a ghost.

 

“Did you just say...?”

 

“Stiles yeah...Like I said, Derek said I should be dead, and I found some news articles about the fire on the internet...except earlier today I didn’t have anything to do with the fire except for going up there with my dad when the 911 call came through because he couldn’t find anyone to watch me. It was the first time I didn’t leave my dad’s car at the crime scene because looking at the house while it was on fire like that scared me.”

 

“Right...and you are...how old?”

 

“I just turned 17 a couple of weeks ago,” Stiles replied, “I’m pretty sure I haven’t time travelled, because from what I’ve seen the dates flow on.”

 

“Do...do you have any evidence of your involvement in the Hale pack?” Deaton asked. Stiles nodded, pulling out his laptop, his change of clothes, and the box of herbs in order to retrieve his photo album out of the bag, before handing it over to Deaton, who began flicking through it, his eyes widening as he took in the photos within.

 

“I was leaving town, through the preservation, on foot,” Stiles explained, “I didn’t plan on ever coming back, but it was raining and I got lost. I slipped and fell down an embankment, and I must have hit my head, because i passed out...but it wasn’t straight away. I was out for a few hours, and then when I woke up I decided to head back towards the Hale house and start again in the morning, because i knew that if i spent the night alone out in the woods I’d probably get killed, only to bump into Derek Hale when I crossed pack lands...The same Derek that died in my arms ten days ago, only, obviously not the same Derek, because he didn’t even recognize me.”

 

Deaton set the book down on the metal examination table, along with the rest of Stiles’ meagre belongings, his gaze moving to the box of herbs.

 

“Where did you get this from?” Deaton asked.

 

Stiles sighed, “Once things started going to hell and people started...dying...Derek came here to get some things that might come in useful. This is what was left. Two of the jars broke when I fell, but the rest of it is fine.

 

Wordlessly, Deaton opened the box, Stiles quiet beside him, technically it all belonged to Deaton anyway, so he had the right to look at it. Maybe something in the box would provide the answer for what the hell was going on.

 

“Were these the only jars that broke,” Deaton asked, donning examination gloves quickly, before gingerly picking what was left of the two jars out of the box, careful not to get any of the powder the jars once contained on his hand.

 

Stiles nodded, “Yeah, why?”

 

“Did you get any of the combined powder on your hand?”

 

“Yeah...why...am I gonna die? Did I get some magical version of leprosy or something, because ho knows who I’ve infected, I’ve been in town for ages.”

 

“No...It’s not transferrable. Tell me, did you...say anything...think anything...while you were in physical contact with the powder.

 

Stiles paled, “I wished that none of the stuff that happened to the pack did...that none of them died...that they were all happy and Derek didn’t lose his family in the fire...oh my God...I’m in an alternate universe, aren’t I?”

 

“It would appear so. The two herbs that got mixed when you fell and the jars containing them broke; they are very powerful and very rare, despite looking ordinary. I imagine that you used the word wish?’

 

Stiles nodded, rubbing his hand through his hair nervously.

 

“Is my being here going to stuff anything up?”

 

“I would imagine not. As you said, it’s not like you’ve time travelled, and you have no chance of running into the version of yourself from this dimension...he died in the Hale fire.

 

“I know,” Stiles nodded, “I read the articles. It didn’t make sense. The day of the Hale fire I went round to Scott’s for a bit up until my dad finished work, and from then on I was at home. I never had the chance to find out about the fire until after it was too late.”

 

Deaton had a thoughtful look on his face, “have you, by any chance, seen the second Back to the Future movie?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles nodded sarcastically, ‘of course I have.”

 

“Think about it like this. You say in your timeline the majority of the Hale family died in the house fire...except Derek.” As he spoke Deaton drew a straight line across his piece of paper

 

“Derek, Peter, Cora and Laura.” Stiles corrected, “Except we all through Cora was dead up until last year.”

 

“And the wish you made was that Derek didn’t lose any of his family in that fire?” Deaton asked, marking a point in the line and labelling it ‘Hale house fire’

 

“Yeah...so from that day onwards the timeline has been different,” Stiles nodded, catching on. Deaton drew a line starting at the Hale house fire point and moving away from the original line. Stiles braced himself against the table as he stared at the notepad. It was all so obvious; he was frustrated that he didn’t pick it out earlier.

 

“The question is...how to get you back onto your original timeline?” Deaton pondered. Stiles sighed.

 

“I’m guessing you don’t have a time machine stashed away somewhere...not that I would want to do it that way.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“If I went back in time and stopped young me from saving Derek’s family, I would be back in my original timeline...but Derek’s family would be dead...and eventually, so would everyone else I’d ever cared about.   I honestly think staying here may be a better option.”

 

Deaton frowned and glanced at the photo album, the pain in Stiles’ voice evident. The kid had obviously been put through hell.

 

“I will do some research to see if i could find a way to return you to your original timeline, but I am not optimistic. The powder that you used to come here is very rare. I doubt I would be able to find enough to reverse the magic that brought you here, and in most cases reversing the magic is impossible. These types of things tend to only be one way. I will say this though. Your wish...to prevent Derek’s family from dying, it was nobly done...It might not have changed things in your timeline, but I for one, am glad that it brought you here. There will be many who will be happy to see you here. Is there anyone I could call for you?” Deaton asked, and Stiles shook his head, wiping a stray tear from his eyes.

 

“No...everyone thinks I’m dead...long dead. I don’t have anywhere to go to.”

 

“Yes,” Deaton offered, “you do.”


	4. Chapter 3

Stiles was quiet the whole drive from the clinic back to Deaton’s house, watching the scenery as it passed, recognizing landmarks identical to those from the town he had spent the last year defending from those who sought to kill it’s residents, both human and non human.

 

It was, unmistakably, the same town, but Stiles now knew that it was different...why the high school was still in once piece...why no-one had recognized him. Stiles bet that if he walked up to his father right now and said hi his dad would have no idea who he was, although Stiles’ eyes might give him away as being related to Claudia somehow.

 

Deaton didn’t try and initiate a conversation with Stiles the whole car ride, something for which Stiles was grateful. Normally he would be happy to have a conversation with his best friend’s boss, but his mind was spinning, and he as running on too little food and sleep to even try and keep up with it, even discounting the fact he hadn’t had his Adderal medication in God knew how long.

 

“Stiles...we’re here,” Deaton offered, pulling up in front of his house, a small, but still nice house not far from where the Argents had been living before Allison died. Stiles wordlessly got out of the car, following Deaton up the driveway to the front door, dragging his feet on the concrete, his bag hanging from his shoulders. Deaton unlocked the door and led the way into the house.

 

“Sorry about the mess, but I wasn’t expecting company,” he apologised, holding the door open for Stiles, who stepped over the threshold and quickly removed his shoes, knowing how muddy they were thanks to his long walks.

 

“It...it’s nice,” Stiles offered, looking around with a fraction of his normal curiosity. Normally Stiles would be far more observant, the born investigator within him taking note of every little detail. Now though Stile was too drained, physically and emotionally to bring himself to notice what colour carpet Deaton had on his floor.

 

“I guess you haven’t been to my house in your timeline?” Deaton offered conversationally, taking off his coat and hanging it on a hook by the door, before he put his own bag down and walked into the kitchen, Stiles following close behind.

 

“No...we always met at the clinic, when we needed to,” Stiles admitted.

 

Deaton nodded, “I conduct almost all my pack business there. There’s a mountain Ash perimeter around this house that the local wolves know about. That’s how I knew you were human, by the way. You walked through the front door of the clinic. That doorframe was custom made of mountain ash. No werewolf has ever gotten through it.”

 

“How does the pack come in then?”

 

“Through the back door, which has no mountain ash whatsoever” Deaton offered with a smile, “It’s something that only the local wolves know about, now...would you like something to eat...or do you want to use the shower first and then get some sleep.”

 

“A shower sounds good,” Stiles admitted, cringing at how bad he must smell. It was no wonder Derek had sent him on his way.

 

“The bathroom is just through here, I’ll get you a clean towel to use,” Deaton offered, opening up a cupboard and pulling a clean towel out and passing it to Stiles, who grabbed his clean change of clothes out of his bag, before he headed into the bathroom.

 

TW

 

Instead of waking Stiles up, the nice hot shower had only made him more tired. While he’d been in the bathroom Deaton had made up a comfortable looking bed on the couch, and Stiles’ legs nearly gave out beneath him at the sight, unable to remember the last time he’d slept on something that wasn’t the hard floor of the Hale house.

 

“Here, something light. You don’t have to eat it all, just some,” Deaton offered, pointing Stiles towards a bowl of soup and a piece of plain toast sitting on the kitchen table. Stiles slowly sat down and began to eat, his stomach settling after the first few bites. He managed to eat half the bowl of soup, and the toast before he shook his head and put the spoon down.

 

“I’m done,” Stiles admitted.

 

Deaton nodded, “You’ve done well...when was the last time you were eating regular meals, Stiles?

 

Stiles thought about it, but couldn’t pinpoint it to an actual date. It was probably just before the Nogitsune, but Stiles had lost track of time since then, so it might have been after that.

 

“I don’t know...a while,” he admitted, resting his head on his arms. He startled violently when he felt a large hand rest on his shoulder, turning and realising that it had only been Deaton, who had stepped back quickly, his hands held up to show he meant no harm.

 

“Sorry,” Stiles apologised, dropping his gaze. Deaton sighed.

 

“You know...it might be a good idea for you to talk to somebody about what you went through. It might help.”

 

“What, like your sister?” Stiles asked. Deaton blinked.

 

“No...I wasn’t going to suggest her. I was thinking more along the lines of Talia. She is the alpha after all. She knows what she’s doing.”

 

“I don’t want her to take the memories away. I don’t want to forget everything that happened.”

 

“Talia wouldn’t do that, not to somebody like you.”

 

“She did it to her son and her brother...why wouldn’t she do it to me.”

 

“Because as far as she is concerned, you’re the little boy that saved her family from being burned alive, and got killed in the effort. You’re the little boy that most of the town gets teary eyes over. There isn’t a person in this town who doesn’t know your name. Even if it wasn’t exactly you that did it, the little boy who did do it and you are fundamentally the same person. She owes you her life and the lives of the majority of her family members. Talia wouldn’t touch your memories if you didn’t want her to.”

 

Stiles sighed and nodded. It would be nice, he thought, to finally get the opportunity to meet Derek’s mother. Thinking of Derek’s mother made Stiles’ mind jump to his own mother.

 

“Can i ask you something?” Stiles asked. Deaton nodded, beginning the process of clearing away the dishes.

 

“In one of the articles it mentioned that my dad had been recently made a widower...so my mom still?” Stiles faded off, unable to complete the sentence.

 

Deaton sighed, “Yes...your mother died, the year before you did. Your father is still the Sherriff.”

 

“Is...Is he okay?”

 

“He’s committed to his work, and he is good to the community,” Deaton nodded, “But he took your death hard. He still grieves your death deeply. Not a day goes by that doesn’t bring some memory or thought of you and your mother.”

 

“You sound like you know him well.”

 

“Well...not personally. You said that in your timeline Scott worked for me. In this timeline he does the same. He has regular contact with your father. Scott’s...Scott’s mother and your father have just recently begun dating. Melissa looked after him quite a lot in the aftermath of your death, and things slowly developed from there.”

 

“Unbelievable,” Stiles rolled his eyes with a snort, “Scott and I have been...we were trying to get them together for years. All it took was me dying...” Stiles broke off, remembering how one of his dad’s deputies had told him and Scott how they’d found their parents clutching onto one another in the burned out house, dying in one another’s arms.

 

Deaton sighed, “Your father is not the only one who misses you, Stiles. Scott thinks of you often too...Melissa as well...the list of people whose lives you touched is very long.”

 

Stiles shrugged, “they were probably better off. I’d bet that, in my original timeline every single person on that list is dead.”

 

“It sounds like you’ve had a hard time of it.” Deaton ventured.

 

Stiles shrugged, “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

 

Deaton nodded and let the subject drop, staying where he was as Stiles got to his feet and stumbled across to the couch, collapsing onto it with a soft huff of air.

 

“Thanks for letting me crash here. I appreciate it.”

 

“Now problem,” Deaton shrugged, “I’m off to bed. If you need anything don’t hesitate to come and get me, okay?”

 

Stiles grunted his assent, already falling asleep on the couch. Deaton nodded and turned off the lights, heading upstairs to his bedroom, wondering what surprises the new day would bring.

 

TW

 

Alan Deaton woke without a start, not exactly what had caused his sudden return to consciousness. He lay in his bed, blinking at the clock on his bedside table. Three o’clock in the morning...not even close to the time that Deaton usually got up, unless there was a work related emergency.

 

The answer came with a muffled scream. Deaton shot upright in his bed, flinging the sheets aside as he remembered Stiles, sleeping on Deaton’s couch. He ran as quickly as he dared down the stairs, flicking the living room light on. Stiles was on the couch, his body tangled in the blankets, trembling, his hair and face sweaty. In his sleep, Stiles let out a whimper, his body arching up off the bed, and Deaton realised the teenager was trapped n a nightmare.

 

Cautious, Deaton approached Stiles, not knowing if Stiles would take a swing at him or not.

 

“Stiles,” Deaton called softly, “Stiles, its Deaton...Alan Deaton. You need to wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”

 

“Nggg,” Stiles moaned, “Derek...no...Don’t go...don’t leave me. Please don’t die.”

 

“Stiles!” Deaton repeated, slightly louder, taking a step closer.

 

“No, Derek...please God no, Derek, wake up...wake up...please wake up...don’t leave me alone here.”

 

“Stiles it’s okay, it’s only a nightmare.”

 

Stiles only screamed in response, “Derek, no, please no...no...wake up...wake up...wake up!”

 

“Stiles!” Deaton said, putting his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles yelled and jerked, his eyes flashing open as he sat bolt upright, screaming, tears rolling down his face.

 

“Sh.., it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s just a dream, you’re safe...Derek’s safe, up at the mansion. Everything’s okay.” Deaton offered reassuringly, but at the same time knowing he was completely out of his depth. Stiles was oblivious to his presence, sucking in deep breaths as his screams quietened to shaky sobs. Deaton frowned as Stiles’ breathing didn’t improve, becoming more laboured, as if he was having an asthma attack. Deaton knew what to do to help someone having a asthma attack...he’d helped Scott through three before Scott was bitten, but Stiles didn’t have an inhaler in his bag that Deaton had seen, and the one Deaton had bought as a back up when Scott started working for him stayed in the first aid kit at the clinic.

 

“Stiles...are you having an asthma attack...do you have an inhaler?” Deaton asked. Breathless, Stiles shook his head.

 

“Panic attack...have them a fair bit...especially after nightmares.”

 

“What can I do to help?”

 

“Not much,” Stiles panted, rubbing his chest, as if there was a vice wrapped around it, preventing him from inhaling or exhaling. Deaton could tell Stiles was trying to self regulate his breathing, counting softly under his breath in between breathing attempts, but it didn’t seem to be doing anything. Moving slowly, as if Stiles was a animal, Deaton took one of Stiles hands in his own and pressed it against his chest, breathing deeply so that Stiles could feel the rhythm of his breath.

 

“In and out, nice and easy,” Deaton coached gently, watching carefully as Stiles’ breathing calmed down and resumed it’s normal rhythm. Stiles’ skin was pale, and his hand shook when Deaton let go of it, so Deaton knew the teenager wasn’t completely over the nightmare, but at least his breathing was more stable. It was an improvement.

 

“So...do you want to explain what that was about?”

 

Stiles shrugged before shaking his head, rubbing his hand over his face, before rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that Deaton had seen the Sherriff do numerous times.

 

“You were calling for Derek in your sleep...begging him not to die. Is...is Derek dead in your reality...your original timeline?”

 

“Everyone is,” Stiles croaked out, his voice thick with pain, grief, loneliness and suffering, “I was the last one left. After everything we went through and I...the human with next to no training, was the only one who came through it all alive.”

 

“I’m sorry about that, Stiles. I really think you should talk to Talia, and to the rest of the pack. They’ll be able to help you.”

 

Stiles shrugged, “I guess...as long as I don’t get my throat ripped out for something,” Stiles shrugged, his voice still thick with emotions. Deaton nodded, knowing that he should leave Stiles alone to his thoughts.

 

“I’m sure we’ll be able to prevent that from happening, Stiles. Call if you need me, alright?” Deaton counselled, before he stood to his feet and heading towards the stairs. He didn’t bother turning the light off, knowing that Stiles wouldn’t be going back to sleep tonight, not after the nightmare he’d just gone through...although Deaton suspected that the nightmare hadn’t just been conjured up by Stiles’ active mind, but instead had involved real actual memories of Derek Hale’s last moments.  

  

The amount of distress Stiles had shown made Deaton curious about the relationship between Derek and Stiles in the timeline that Stiles had come from. Where they friends, or something more? Derek had just turned 23 years old, and from what Stiles had said he hadn’t lost or gained any time when he’d changed timelines, departing and arriving on the same date, the 25th of January 2012. Stiles wouldn’t turn eighteen for almost another full year. After what Kate Argent had put fifteen year old Derek through Deaton would have been very surprised if Derek got into a relationship with someone underage...not that he was judging. Stiles appeared to be mature for his age, and circumstances might have sped things along a little.      

Deaton was silent as he made his way back upstairs to his bedroom, collecting a thick book from his study along the way. He had promised to look and see if he could find a way to get Stiles back home, and as much as Deaton wanted the kid to stay with people who would care about him, he fully intended on doing all he could to keep his promise.


	5. Chapter 4

Stiles paced the reception area of the clinic nervously, wringing his hands together and counting his fingers under his breath. Deaton had arranged to have the morning off, moving the couple of appointments he had back into the afternoon, first thing in the morning, before he’d called Talia Hale and asked her to come to the clinic to talk about something that had happened. Stiles knew Deaton didn’t say what it was that had him so worried, specifically, but he’d said enough to convince Talia to come by.

 

The crunching of gravel made Stiles glance out the front window, and his jaw dropped when he saw a dark green SUV pull up outside the clinic beside the vet’s car, and a middle aged woman get out. Stiles knew, immediately that this was Talia Hale, even without having seen pictures of her in the reports about the fire he had read, both in this timeline, and in his original timeline.

 

As if she knew she was being watched, Talia looked straight at Stiles, who hastily ducked out of sight, his heart rate skyrocketing as he flailed away from the window. There was a part of him that knew he was being stupid,, both Peter and Derek had said that Talia was a good alpha and an excellent leader and mother, aside from when she removed memories from her loved ones that she thought might be harmful, but there was another part of him that was convinced that Talia would see him as a threat to her pack, and either kill him or exile him from Beacon Hills forever.

 

Stiles crawled away from the window, retreating back into the consulting room, his anxiety getting the better of him as his heart rate spiked up again; ignoring the way Deaton rolled his eyes at Stiles’ behaviour, before he walked through the storage area to unlock the mountain ash free door at the back of the clinic for Talia.

 

“Alpha Hale,” Stiles heard Deaton greet formally once he had opened up the door, “thank you for coming so quickly after I called.”

 

“Dr. Deaton, you know that you don’t have to address me so formally...Talia is quite fine. Of course I came so quickly, from what you said it was urgent” Talia replied, stepping over the threshold easily, her heeled boots making a soft noise against the concrete floor. Stiles peered curiously around the doorframe, trying to catch another glimpse of Derek’s mother.

 

“Yes...it is rather pressing. Have you spoken to Derek at all in the last twenty four hours?”

 

“Not much,” Talia replied as Deaton closed and locked the door again, ensuring their privacy, “he wasn’t in a good mood when he came home from his run yesterday, I barely saw him. The girls tried to tease him out of it at dinner, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Why do you ask...is there something going on with him?”

 

Stiles’ heart clenched painfully at the obvious concern in Talia’s voice...it was so much like Melissa sounded when she was worried about Scott. It was apparent how much she cared about her son.

 

“No...he’s fine...It’s just...I believe he had an encounter in the woods yesterday...one that he, nor the other person invooved, anticipated. They both thought one another to be dead, you see, and it may explain Derek’s mood being...less than good.”

 

“Who?” Talia asked curiously, a little more relaxed now that she knew Derek was fine. Stiles took his cue and rose to his feet before he walked into the store room, biting his lip nervously.

 

“Um...Hi?” he offered. Talia looked at him curiously, although not surprised...she would have been able to smell and hear his heartbeat at least since she walked into the clinic. Her eyes, widened in surprise, however, as she took in Stiles’ features, obviously making the connection between the little boy that had died to save her family, and the teenager standing in front of her now.

 

“But...but how...he...he died?” she stammered.

 

“Stiles, we believe, has come from an alternate reality where...well...he wasn’t killed the day of the fire....another timeline of events, if you like.”

 

“Sti...Stiles Stilinski?” Talia asked.

 

Stiles nodded, “Yes ma’am. It’s, um...an honour to meet you”

 

Talia looked from Stiles, to Deaton, and back at Stiles.

 

Deaton cleared his throat helpfully when neither Talia nor Stiles spoke, “We have proof of his identity, if you need it, Talia. He’s got a photo album, with pictures of some of the pack in it.”

 

Talia shook her head, glancing at the open photo album, which Stiles and Deaton had left out in readiness for this moment. It was a quick glance though, before Talia refocused back on Stiles.

 

“Of course he is Stiles Stilinski, I knew he was the same person as that precious little boy the moment I laid my eyes on him. Do you think my dreams are not haunted the memory of his eyes that night, how he broke the mountain Ash barrier, how he helped get the others out...how none of us could stop that support from falling and hitting him in the head? Every night I dream about how his poor little heart kept trying to keep going, but he was just too badly hurt. I remember the silence when it finally stopped as the ambulance rushed him to the hospital, as if everything in the world had stopped along with it.” As Talia spoke a tear rolled down her cheek, and she quickly walked across the storeroom and wrapped Stiles in a hug, almost pulling him off the ground. Stiles’ eyes widened in amazement, gingerly putting his arms around the alpha to hug her back, wincing as Talia’s hug made his ribs creak a little, although she quickly loosened her grip. Stiles looked over Talia’s shoulder at Deaton, who was had a rueful smile on his face as he watched Talia and Stiles.

 

“Now...” Talia said eventually, pulling away from Stiles, “Now that we’ve gotten that over and done with, let’s talk about how you came to be in this timeline. You might not be physically the same child who saved my family, but I still want to do all I can to help you get back. I bet that there are ones back home that are missing you right now.

 

“No...There really isn’t” Stiles shook his head, but Talia tucked an arm over his shoulders.

 

“Nonsense, now, let’s get comfortable and hear the whole story.”

 

So Stiles and Deaton told Talia about what had happened. Stiles only going back as far as the day he left what was left of the Hale house and going from there, avoiding talking about why he was trying to leave Beacon Hills in the first place, and Deaton explaining the two powders that, when combined, had made Stiles’ wish a reality, transporting him to a place where Derek’s family had survived. Talia sat and listened, holding the photo album and flicking through the pages, spending the most time on pages featuring the pack.

 

“You were close to Derek...where you came from?” she asked once the explanation was over. Stiles blinked and nodded, looking down at the page. His gaze was drawn to a photo that Melissa had taken only a few weeks after the Nogitsune had been killed. It had been the first time the pack had gotten together informally afterwards. Scott and Isaac both looked pale and grief-stricken, Lydia’s eyes were puffy, Kira looked sad, and Stiles was sleeping, curled up between Scott and Derek, with his head resting in Derek’s lap. Derek had his hand resting on Stiles’ head, and Stiles could tell that the former alpha was playing with his hair.  

 

“As close as anyone got to Derek, I guess,” Stiles shrugged, “We were kind of friends.”

 

“What about the other people in this book...you were friends with them all?” Talia offered.

 

Stiles nodded, “Yeah...Lydia put the album together for me for Christmas. It wasn’t much of a Christmas though. Things had already started to go wrong again by then, and then they got worse. Are...are they all okay in this timeline. I wanted them all to be alive and happy.”

 

“From what I know, they all seem to be happy,” Deaton nodded, “and every person in that book is alive, other than your mother.”

 

“All of them?” Stiles asked, his eyes welling up in tears.

 

“What happened, Stiles?” Talia asked gently.

 

Stiles shuddered, “A Necromancer...we’d already lost Erica and Boyd and Allison and Aidan, and Cora left, and Jackson died after leaving, and...and nobody else made it out but me.” Stiles’ voice cracked, and he was oblivious to the concerned look Talia and Deaton exchanged over the top of his head.

 

“It’s okay, Stiles,” Talia soothed gently as Stiles broke down once again, sobbing as he flashed back to every single death that he’d witnessed or been involved in, going right back to his memories of watching the Hale house burn while Derek and Laura looked on in horror, right up until Derek’s last few moments in Stiles’ arms.

 

Stiles was oblivious to how Talia put her arms around him, holding him close to her, soothing him like a mother would soothe her child as he cried into her shoulder, his tears drenching the jacket she was wearing as she ran her finger’s through his hair, trying to calm him down.

 

It was too much, though. The memories just wouldn’t stop, and Stiles couldn’t control it. Memories from the possession came one after another, like he was watching them on TV, the nogitsune’s voice echoing in his tortured mind, taunting him, telling him that no one was there to care for him or look after him, or for him to look after, because he was weak and powerless and useless.

 

Stiles cried until he was too exhausted to cry anymore. He breathed in, glad that he’d been able to avoid having a panic attack, noting immediately how much Talia smelt like Derek...or was it the other way around. Talia smelt like Derek did...like the preservation and fresh grass and rain. It was oddly comforting, and Stiles couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. The few hours of sleep he’d gotten the previous night hadn’t been anywhere near enough, and he hadn’t been sleeping properly for months.

 

Talia was quiet as Stiles’ sobs eased and his breathing became stable, rubbing the teenager’s back with one had as Stiles succumbed to his exhaustion, falling asleep with his head nestled into her shoulder. It didn’t look overly comfortable, but Talia didn’t say a word complaining.

 

“Do you have a blanket or something that we can cover him with?” she asked, using her werewolf strength to gather Stiles into her arms and carry him over to the examination table, laying him out on it. Deaton nodded, heading out to another room before he returned.

 

“He should be in hospital,” Talia commented as Deaton passed the blanket to her so she could out it over Stiles, “he’s far too skinny...I would be surprised if he was over 120 pounds, and he’s exhausted.”

 

“We can’t put him in hospital, though...he’s technically dead.”

 

“I know. We should tell his father. The Sherriff has the right to know...it’ll hurt more when Stiles goes back, but he deserves the chance to spend time with Stiles again.”

  
“I don’t think I am going to be able to get him back to his original timeline,” Deaton admitted, “The powder that he used, it’s rare, and it’s magic is near impossible to undo. I’m not sure how, or why, the me of the other timeline even had some, it’s very dangerous.”

 

“It sounds as if the situation was very desperate,” Talia reasoned, combing Stiles’ hair back off his face with her fingers, “maybe the other you felt as though it was your only option. Does Stiles have magical talent? Was it a spell that he accidently cast that brought him back here?”  

 

“No...those two powders, anyone can do magic with them, if they’re desperate enough...if the need is there then the powder will respond. From what Stiles has said, I think he was pretty desperate at the time.”

 

“And yet he wished for his friends to be safe and alive, and for Derek to have his family back...he’s still so selfless...like he was when he raced into my burning home and rescued us.” Talia ventured thoughtfully, watching the sleeping teenager with a motherly look in her eyes.

 

“I personally believe he’s better off here, where everyone is alive. The kid has been through hell. Necromancers are not easy to get rid of, and will kill anyone that is in their way. I also believe that there is more that he is not telling us, more ordeals that he and his friends...and Derek of his timeline, have gone through.”

 

“I agree, he should stay here in this timeline. I’ll take him back with me, we’ve got the space up at the house, and he’ll be safe up there until we tell his dad. I can’t imagine the Sherriff turning him away.”

 

Deaton nodded. There was little risk of Stiles’ presence changing anything...it wasn’t like he’d time travelled, and since the Stiles born in this timeline was dead, it wasn’t like they were risking a paradox or something along those lines.

 

“The clinic is opening up again at 12, we can let him sleep till then...do you want a cup of coffee while we wait?” Deaton offered.

 

Talia beamed, “a cup of coffee would be great, thanks Alan. And thanks for looking after him last night. It must have been rough for him, to have a close friend not recognise him, and to suddenly be in a world where he is technically dead.”

 

“It would have been rough on anyone,” Deaton agreed, as they ducked out of the consulting room and left Stiles alone.

 

TW

 

Thanks to her werewolf alpha hearing, Talia was the first to hear Stiles’ minute noises of distress, leaving Deaton alone as she walked straight into the consulting room to where Stiles lay, still asleep, his brow furrowed and a deep frown on his face, the dark shadows beneath his eyes a stark contrast against his pale skin.

 

“Stiles...Stiles wake up,” Talia ventured, approaching the sleeping teenager as he whimpered in his sleep. Not worried about Stiles lashing out, her reflexes and healing would prevent any significant injuries, Talia reached out and put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, running her other hand through his sweaty hair. Despite the sweat, Stiles’ skin was cool to touch, even for a human, as it had been earlier, and Talia frowned in concern.

 

“Deaton...he’s cold,” she informed the Vet, before turning her attention back to Stiles, “Stiles...come, on, wake up, it’s just a dream, wake up.”

 

Deaton touched Stiles’ wrist, and nodded, “I noticed last night he was cold, but I thought it was just the nightmare.”

 

“He was cold earlier; it’s why I wanted you to get the blanket.” Talia commented, giving Stiles’ shoulder a gentle shake. In response Stiles cried out in his sleep, his eyes snapping open, his chest heaving. Deaton grabbed a metal basin, recognising the greening tinge to Stiles’ pale skin, and held it out as Stiles retched and threw up the small amount of breakfast he’d been able to eat.

 

Talia rubbed his back soothingly, “It’s okay, it’s okay”, she whispered softly, “it’s over, you’re okay.”

 

“They...they’re not,” Stiles rasped once he’d stopped throwing up.

 

“Who is not?” Talia asked.

 

“Everyone,” Stiles whimpered, a tear rolling down his face, “My mom, Erica, Boyd and Isaac and Danny and Ethan and Aidan, Chris and Malia and Peter, Lydia and Jackson, My dad and Melissa and Scott and Allison and Kira and Derek...they’re all dead...and it’s all my fault.”

 

Talia frowned as she wrapped the blanket around Stiles’ shoulders, “How do you think it’s your fault?”

 

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? Here, where I died as a kid, they’re all alive and well, mostly, and there’s no necromancer out to get us...no Nogitsune, or darach or Alpha pack...I bet there was no kanima either. Hell...no creepy mutant alpha Uncle Peter and no Kate Argent shooting at wolves in the woods. It’s like if I didn’t drag Scott into the woods that night he got bitten nothing bad would have happened.

 

Deaton opened his mouth to say something, having returned from getting rid of the basin, but Talia shook her head at him.

 

“Is...is that all of the things your pack has gone through?” she asked. Stiles nodded, wiping tears from his face. Talia hesitated before she spoke again.

 

“Did you know that an werewolf alpha can see someone’s memories, if they have permission?”

 

Stiles nodded, “Yes...I know.”

 

“I’m not going to ask you to tell us, but it might help if you could show me,” she offered gently. Stiles hesitated,

 

“Can...can you leave them there? I...I don’t want you to make me forget. I can’t forget any of it.”

 

“I promise, I will only watch, not remove.” Talia promised solemnly. Stiles watched her for a moment, before he nodded, ducking his head down and exposing the back of his neck. Talia put one arm around Stiles’ front to support him, as she extended the claws of her right hand and lifted them to the back of Stiles’ neck.

 

“I’m sorry if this hurts,” she said, before, as gently as she could, she dug her elongated claws into Stiles’ neck and closed her eyes.

 

Stiles flinched when he felt the claws penetrate, but it didn’t hurt, and he knew Talia was absorbing his pain. He felt a very gentle brush up against his mind, and he shuddered at the memory of the Nogitsune. It was far gentler than the demonic fox spirit had been, though, patient and soft, and strangely familiar, reminding Stiles not just of the nogitsune, but of Derek and Scott as well. Holding his breath, Stiles tentatively opened up his mind and let Talia in.

 

“Show me...show me as much as you want. It doesn’t have to be everything,” Talia’s soft, gentle, maternal sounding voice whispered in his mind, and Stiles nodded, knowing that he would show her everything. If he was going to stay in this reality then he wasn’t going to start off by concealing things.

 

Starting with his memories of the night of the Hale fire, and then skipping forward to the night that he and Scott went looking for the dead body in the woods, and going through everything that had happened since then, Stiles revealed his memories to Talia. Nothing was left out, even the long summer where Stiles had spent most of his time helping Derek, Isaac and Peter research the alpha pack and try and find Boyd and Erica, and the weeks following the Nogitsune, when Stiles hadn’t really done that much except lie in bed and try to avoid sleeping, despite how exhausted his body was. He included being kidnapped and beaten by Gerard (something that none of the pack knew the details about, he’d told them the same lie that he’d told his dad. They’d probably known he was lying, just like his dad, but they hadn’t called him out on it). Stiles included his memories of the nogitsune, of being helpless, watching on in horror as the nogitsune used his face to torture and taunt his friends, the nogitsune’s voice echoing in his mind, taunting him. Hesitantly, Stiles even included Derek’s last moments, cradled in Stiles’ arms, dying as Stiles begged him to live. Nothing was left out.

 

Stiles completely lost track of time, going through his memories with Talia, oblivious to what was going on in the physical world around him. The world could have ended and Stiles’ wouldn’t have noticed. It was only when he felt the gentlest tug as Talia withdrew from his mind, her claw exiting her neck, that Stiles blinked back into awareness, just in time for a strong pair of arms to wrap around him.

 

“Um...Mrs. Hale?’ Stiles asked as he felt Talia’s tears on his shirt, “Are...are you okay? Please don’t cry...I’m pretty sure Derek will kill me if I made his mom cry.”

 

“He would do no such thing, my dear, sweet boy. You poor thing, it’s okay, it’s all over. You’re pack...and we look after our pack, just like you looked after yours.”

 

“Are you okay, Talia?” Deaton asked curiously. Talia nodded, sniffing and wiping away tears, drawing away from Stiles and giving him some space.

 

“Yes, I’m fine. It was just...a little more intense than I expected. Do you mind if I take Stiles with me...I think he could do with a good lunch and a rest.”

 

Deaton nodded and Stiles looked from Talia to Deaton in confusion.

 

“Er...what’s going on?” he asked.

 

“I’m going to take you back to my house, it’ll be far more comfortable for you than Alan’s couch, and you’ll be able to spend time with the pack. You know quite a few of them already.”

 

Stiles shrugged, not really caring. He slid off the examination table, holding onto it to steady himself when his vision swam slightly from the sudden movement. Once Stiles was steady on his feet, Deaton led Stiles and Talia back to the storage room so Stiles could collect his things, tucking it all back into his backpack, before Talia led him out the back door of the clinic and into the thin winter sunshine.

 

“I’ll be in touch, Talia...Stiles,” Deaton waved.

 

Stiles waved back, “See you later...thanks for last night and this morning,” he replied    

 

“It was no worries.” Deaton smiled before he went back inside. Stiles shivered slightly, before following Talia back to her car. If he was being honest with himself, Stiles knew he hadn’t really been warm since before he sacrificed himself to save his dad, but it had been bad since the nogitsune, and it had gotten even worse after he had attempted to hike out of Beacon Hills in the middle of a storm...which really was to be expected, Stiles thought in hindsight.

 

Talia unlocked her car and Stiles got in the front passenger seat, aware of the concerned, maternal looks that the alpha was giving him, reminding him painfully of both his mother and of Melissa. Neither of them spoke, however, as Talia drove out of town and took the winding road that led out to the Hale’s mansion. Stiles watched the scenery fly past, a sense of contentment filling him at the familiar sight of Beacon Hills preservation. Out here, it seemed, not much had changed.

 

The consistency of the preservation, however, was contrasted sharply by the Hale’s mansion. Stiles was used to the burned out shell that was all that remained of Derek’s family home, and nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the large mansion that stood in the same clearing as the original house.

 

“We rebuilt in the same place, after the fire, there was too much damage to try and save what was left,” Talia explained, “Besides, the original house was old and it was getting a bit outdated. I for one like my new kitchen far better than my old one.”

 

“It, er, looks good,” Stiles offered, “a lot better than, you know, the last time I saw it.”

 

Talia’s face fell a little at the memory of the burnt out ruin that Stiles had hid in, catatonic after losing his few remaining friends.

 

“Come on; let’s go have something for lunch.” Talia offered, driving around the house to the back, where there was a garage. She parked inside and shut off the engine, before getting out of the car. Stiles followed her lead getting out of the car and leaving the garage. Talia led him up a couple of steps and onto the back veranda of the house, walking along until they reached a glass double door, which Talia opened and let him through, before she closed the door behind them.

 

Stiles hitched his backpack up on his back, looking around the house curiously. It was obviously warmer inside, compared to the chill in the outside that hinted that it would soon be raining again. They were standing in the kitchen, and Stiles quickly took off his shoes, tucking them amongst the small stack of shoes beside the door. Talia too removed her shoes, putting them with Stiles’ and padding silently across the polished wood floorboards over to the sink, where she washed her hands.

 

The kitchen was homely, reminding Stiles of the kitchen of his house back before his mother died. The wealth of the Hales was reflected in the quality of the appliances and the bench tops, but there was still a sort of country charm to it all. Through an archway Stiles could see into the dining room, with its impressively large wooden dining table with matching chairs. Large windows lined the walls, and the winter sun shone through them, filling both rooms with light.

 

“So, Stiles...what can I interest you in for lunch?” Talia asked with a welcoming smile.

    


	6. Chapter 5

“Can...can you tell me about my friends...what they’re doing these days?” Stiles asked Talia quietly after she decided that he’d eaten enough of the chicken noodle soup she had prepared for him and they had finished washing up. Talia looked at him, watching Stiles as he held the tea towel he’d been using to dry the dishes loosely in his hands, her head tilted to the side, before she nodded.

 

“As much as I can, yes. Let’s go sit in the den, where it will be more comfortable for us both.”

 

Talia led Stiles through the house, past the stairs leading upstairs, into a room on the other side of the house. Stiles suppressed his snort of amusement at a pack of werewolves having a room called a den in their house, but, really, a den was the best term to use to describe the room. There was a big comfortable couch and a couple of soft chairs that were positioned around a large TV, and enough room for people to lay down on the floor if they wanted too. It was like it had been built specifically for pack movie nights and puppy piles.

 

“So...who would you like to hear about?” Talia asked, sitting down on the couch and patting the cushion beside her invitingly. Stiles dropped down into it heavily.

 

“I don’t know...my dad for one. Deaton sort of glossed over it, and I don’t know how well you know him, but I want to know how...how he’s going.”

 

“Your death...it caused him a lot of pain, I won’t lie about that. There were so many unanswered questions about what it was you were doing that day...how you knew about the fire. They think that you overheard Kate talking to one of her co-accused while you were either waiting to be picked up, or were actually walking home from school, and you realised what was going on. You headed for the house to try and warn us, but by the time you got there the house was already on fire, and you did the only thing you could think of and you tried to get us out, but there are a lot of different theories. Nobody knows for sure, and nobody probably will ever know. It was the not knowing that hurt your dad the most, that, and the blaming himself for not picking you up from school that day and keeping you safe at home. The guilt...it almost destroyed him. There was a lot of talk about getting him replaced as Sherriff in the weeks and months following the fire. Some people thought that your dad wasn’t in the right place mentally for that sort of public role, not after loosing his wife and only child so close together. My family and I helped as much as we could, and he had the support of a lot of people, so he kept his job, but it was a struggle for a bit there. Melissa McCall was the one that brought him around, in the end.”

 

“Deaton said that they’re dating...my dad and Scott’s mom?”

 

“Yes...it started about two years ago, although your father was frequently staying at the McCall’s house for a good year before that. He said that staying at the house where you once lived...it was too painful...too many memories of both you and your mother. They bought a house and moved in together last summer. She looks after him, stops him from drinking too much, and keeps him eating healthily. He...he did have a minor heart attack a few years ago, but since then he and Melissa have worked hard to keep his cholesterol down.”

 

Stiles nodded, although he felt a pang of grief in his chest. He would miss his house, and his bedroom, with werewolves constantly coming through the window. He barely controlled his panic at the news that his father had already had a heart attack. It was something Stiles had feared ever since he knew what it felt like to lose a parent.   It was the reason that he was so careful about what his dad ate.

 

“What about Scott? Is he...is he still a werewolf? A true alpha?”

 

“Yes...Scott McCall is a werewolf. He was bitten by a rogue alpha...an alpha whose pack had deserted him to join another pack with a better alpha. He came onto my territory looking to poach one or more of my betas, but when they all refused to leave he shifted and ran into the forest. We pursued him, but by the time we found him he’d found Scott in the woods, training for lacrosse, and bitten him.”

 

Stiles rested his elbows on his knees and interlaced his fingers behind his head, “So...Scotty still became a werewolf...he still got thrown into this, with my dad and Melissa.”

 

“Your father and Melissa already knew about us. After...after you died I couldn’t come to terms with the prospect of your father never knowing why Kate wanted to burn my family alive...why you were killed, so I told him the truth. It took a while for him to come to terms with it, and for a long time he avoided my family. Really, it was only after Scott was bitten and turned that he started acknowledging that we existed again. Scott...Scott and your father are very close; I think he sort of came to view Scott as a second child somewhere along the way...not a replacement for you, but as a separate child entirely.

 

“He felt that way long before the fire...ever since Scott’s dad left,” Stiles said softly, “Scott always viewed my dad as his second dad. I was the same way with Melissa, even before mom got sick. We used to buy each other’s parents presents for mother’s day and father’s day and Christmas...pretend we really were brothers. How does the whole two alphas in the same pack thing work for you guys?”

 

“Scott is still learning...he has barely been a werewolf for a year, so he understands that he has a long way to go. Within the broader Beacon Hills pack, which is under my lead, there is a smaller pack, Scott’s pack. Within that pack Scott is the Alpha, but he defers quite a bit to me or sometimes Laura, who will become alpha when I die. It took a little getting used to, but it works. Scott’s generally pretty easygoing.”

 

“What about Derek? What’s he up to?” Stiles asked.

 

“Not quite as grumpy as you remember him to be...although I am his mother, so might be a little biased. He blamed himself for what happened to you...He was the first one to get to you after you had been hit by the roof support, he was the one that pushed it off you and realised how badly you had been hurt. He was the one who started giving you CPR once we all got outside...my husband joined him once we realised that you had stopped breathing. After we learned that you died on the way to hospital Derek told the police everything, how Kate had seduced him and tried to get close to him in order to get to us. I think he was expecting to be arrested like the rest of the men Kate involved in the fire, but instead Kate got a statutory rape charge on top of everything else. She won’t be a free woman for a very long time. Derek...Derek was never the same though. He dropped out of basketball, something he loved, and became a shadow of his former self. He never let anyone get so close again, even us, his pack and family. He went to college and worked hard. He’d only been back in Beacon Hills after finishing college for a few months when Scott was bitten. Derek knew that there was a connection between you and Scott, so he immediately attached himself to Scott, as his mentor, his protector and his guide in all things werewolf. Now he’s Scott’s second in command, and he also does some consulting work with the Sherriff’s department, and he is just beginning to show signs of being back to the old Derek, from before the fire.”

 

“I guess seeing me in the woods yesterday was a bit of a shock then...like a ghost from the past.”

 

“Something like that. I wouldn’t worry too much, though, we’ll get things sorted out, you’ll see.”

 

Stiles nodded, his gaze distant, “What about Lydia? Is she...still involved?”

 

“Yes, your friend Lydia is still involved in the supernatural, and yes, she is aware she is a banshee. She is another member of Scott’s pack, although she’s perhaps the one most likely to tell him when she disagrees with one of his ideas.”

 

Stiles snorted in amusement at that, “sounds like Lydia,” he nodded, before the smile fell from his face, “What...what about Allison?” Stiles’ voice cracked with emotion, and Stiles swallowed down the lump in his throat that threatened to suffocate him, the one that always appeared when Allison was mentioned.

 

“She’s perfectly healthy. She and Scott are together, and as far as I know, very happy. She was never stabbed by a oni under the orders of a nogitsune.” Talia confirmed, “She and her father live in an apartment not far from the loft where you remember Derek living. Victoria Argent is still dead, but none of us had anything to do with it. She did try and kill Scott, but we were able to save him without resorting to biting.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“When she went after Scott she defied the Argent’s code. After everything that happened with Kate other hunters were not particularly impressed with a member of the Argent family drawing the wrong type of attention...Scott’s father is after all an FBI agent, despite his absence from Scott’s life. Victoria was found with a bullet in her head about twenty miles north of here. It was ruled a suicide, but Chris confided in me that he suspected that other hunters were the ones responsible. Scott and Allison stayed together throughout the whole ordeal. It is ironic that the Argent code underwent the exact same transition that it did in your reality in the aftermath of Victoria’s death.

 

“We protect those who cannot protect themselves,” Stiles intoned, the words echoing almost hauntingly in his head in voice that sounded a lot like Alison’s. Talia nodded in agreement.

 

“Since then we have lived in peace with Chris and Allison, and they are always welcome at pack functions and gatherings.”

    

“What about the others?” Stiles asked, “Erica and Isaac and Boyd, Cora and Kira and Liam, Jackson and Malia?’

 

“Once it became clear that Scott was going to be a True Alpha, we decided that he needed to have a pack of his own within the Hale pack. Derek volunteered straight away, but we knew that Scott would need at least two betas of his own. Cora and Scott tend to clash a little too much for that to have been a viable solution to provide a stable pack, and she plans on leaving Beacon Hills this July to study in South America anyway. We agreed that Scott’s betas needed to be about Scott’s age, so Derek, Scott and I began to examine Scott’s classmates in order to select who would make good pack mates. We chose Erica and Boyd, and they both accepted the offer of the bite, despite knowing that it may not be effective, and that it could be fatal. Both of them took to the bite well and haven’t looked back. They are valuable members of Scott’s pack.”

 

Letting out a sigh of relief, Stiles nodded, glad that Erica and Boyd were happy, and alive.

 

“Liam was the first member of the pack that Scott actually bit himself,” Talia continued, “he’s only been a werewolf for a little over six weeks now, but he’s making good progress in terms of his control. Scott’s been a very good alpha for him, we’re all very impressed with his leadership skills. Scott only bit Liam because Liam was in danger of bleeding out. He was at the lacrosse field one weekend getting some practise in, alone, when he was attacked by a rogue omega. Scott was out running and scented Liam’s blood, but by then it was too late to call for an ambulance. The omega was past the point of rescuing, and Chris was forced to take it down, much to Scott’s distress. Much like the Scott you know, our Scott hates the idea of violence, and regards killing as something only appropriate as a last resort, He considers everyone to be redeemable.”

 

Stiles smiled, “That sounds like Scott...you haven’t mentioned much about Isaac,” he prompted Talia gently, who nodded, a serious expression crossing her face.

 

“As far as Isaac is concerned, I will need to double back in time a little. This all happened before Scott was bitten, but not by much, only a year or so. After he had recovered from the initial shock of loosing you, and Melissa had, well, brought him back from the bottom of a bottle of whisky, your father threw himself into his work. He often worked twenty hour days, which, while they were not healthy, they certainly were productive. At about that time a noise complaint was called in...for the Lahey’s house. Normally, your father would have handed it off to one of his deputies, as he did in your timeline, if the complaint was even made, but...it was the anniversary of the fire, and he felt the need to get out of the office. He got into his cruiser and drove out to the Lahey’s house. It all seemed normal, but your dad knew in his gut that something wasn’t right. He knocked on the door, and got no answer. He glanced through the window, and saw Mr. Lahey sprawled out on the floor, apparently unconscious. Your father called for backup and an ambulance, and entered the house to give assistance. It was obvious that Isaac’s father had been heavily drinking, but he woke up while your dad was trying to help him, and he reacted badly. He grabbed a kitchen knife and tried to kill your dad with it, but the Sherriff was able to disarm him and he arrested him on the spot. He got taken to hospital with a police escort until he was sober, and then he was taken to the Sherriff’s department for questioning. While he was at the hospital, though, your father searched the Lahey’s house...and he found the basement...

 

“With Isaac in the freezer,” Stiles finished, his gut churning uncomfortably as he remembered what Scott and his own dad had told him about the basement of Isaac’s house, as well as the little bits of information Isaac had volunteered from time to time.

 

Talia nodded gravely, “It was a big deal at the time...The Lahey’s were well respected...and then Matt came forward and talked to the local press about what happened with the swimming team at the Lahey’s house, and it all just got worse. Isaac didn’t have any relatives left, and there weren’t any places for him in foster or group homes, so your dad took him home with him. Isaac’s been living with the Sherriff, Melissa and Scott ever since. He was the first one Scott wanted in his pack, and Isaac was happy to comply. He was the first person I bit for Scott’s pack. He still has a few things that set him off, but generally he’s happy with how things are going. For the last four months he’s been dating Kira, and in my opinion they seem to be happy together.”

 

“She’s okay too?”

 

“Yes...she met Isaac through a study group her father was running, and things progressed from there. The Kira you knew had more control over her powers than our Kira, but she’s getting there.”

 

“No demonic fox to fight to speed the process along, huh?”

 

“Something like that.” Talia admitted, “Although, like I said, she is gaining confidence in her abilities. Watching her and Allison train together is truly remarkable. As for Malia...she is living with her adopted father, happy and safe. In this timeline she was only trapped in her alternate form for a few days. I always kept an eye on her from the day she was born, knowing who her father was, even if I concealed the fact that she existed from Peter. To this day I regret that choice. The car crash that killed her adopted other and sister occurred after the fire, so in your timeline I couldn’t do anything about it, unfortunately. In this timeline, though, the moment I heard about the car crash, and that Malia was missing, I went looking for her. It took a few days, but I eventually tracked her down and helped her transform back. It was then I explained everything to her father, and I told Peter the truth, retuning his memories of Malia’s biological mother.   It was...a tense time within the pack. We were still shaken up by the fire and what happened to you, and then I revealed the truth to Peter about Malia, while at the same time Peter and his wife Amanda had only recently learned that they were expecting their third child. Anyway, Malia is happy and safe. She has strong control over her powers and although she has her own cluster of friends outside of the pack, she will still sometimes join up with us though, for training, and on full moons, or if there is some form of threat to the pack’s safety. She and Aidan have just recently started dating. She is aware of who her true father is, as is the rest of the pack, and she visits Peter and his family at their house at least once a week so she can spend time with her younger half siblings. ”

 

“She’s happy, though?” Stiles asked.

 

Talia nodded, “I believe so, yes, she is happy.”

 

“What about...what about Danny and the twins, you mentioned Aidan, so he’s still alive, what about the others?”

 

“I’ll get back to how Ethan and Aidan arrived in Beacon Hills, but yes, they’re all alive and quite happy. Danny is a member of Scott’s pack, as a human, and Ethan and Aidan are on the fringe. Eventually, I believe, they will join the pack, probably Scotts, rather than my own, but for the moment they are content being omegas within the territory. Danny and Ethan have been together almost since they met, and they make me smile every time I see them, their love for one another is so strong. Danny was brought into this when Jackson figured out what was going on and asked for the bite. Scott and Derek didn’t support the idea, and Isaac was very much against the prospect of Jackson becoming a werewolf. The matter was taken out of our hands when Jackson was shot and almost killed trying to protect Lydia from being killed by some hunter friends of Gerard Argent. The bite was the only thing that could have saved him, and Scott asked me to do it, unable to stand by and watch someone die if there was a way around it. Jackson had the hardest time coping with the transition from human to werewolf, and even now his control is not as good as some of the others, but having Danny and Lydia around to support him has done him a lot of good.”

 

“Why would Gerard’s friends go after Lydia...she’s not a werewolf?”

 

“I should start at the beginning, back when Scott got bitten. Since none of us died in the fire, our numbers were growing, and it was enough to bring Chris and Victoria back here to monitor the situation. They kept a respectful distance at first, and I kept them notified about the situation with the alpha that bit Scott. I kept the identity of the newly bitten beta in Beacon Hills a secret from the, however, hoping that Scott would slip under their radar.”

 

“But then he fell in love with Allison and they figured it out.” Stiles guessed.

 

Talia nodded, “you guessed it. Derek and Cora tried to talk him out of it, but Scott was so in love with her that he didn’t listen; didn’t pay attention to the risks. Chris didn’t want to take action, but he did tell Allison the truth about werewolves and the history of the Argent family, and the story of how Kate’s desire to kill werewolves, even ones that had never harmed a human, had gotten an innocent human boy killed...and that said human boy had been her boyfriend’s childhood best friend. Allison distanced herself from her family for a while after that, spending all of her time with Scott and their other friends...at the time Isaac, Lydia, Jackson and Danny. Chris kept Scott’s secret, though, even from his own wife, not wanting to stir up trouble with the pack and other hunters who already held the Argent name in contempt. Nobody, not Chris, nor any of us, knew, but Gerard had spies in Beacon Hills, ones reporting to him about the Hale pack’s movements. They told him that they were fairly certain there was a werewolf in Allison’s immediate friend group. It was enough to bring him to Beacon Hills for a surprise visit to his son and daughter in law. We learned later that his plan was to target Allison’s werewolf friend in order to draw me out, and get me to bite him to cure his cancer, but they thought that Lydia was the werewolf, not Scott, so they tried to attack her. Jackson risked his life to save her, and got shot before Scott, Derek, and Allison could come to the rescue. The bite was his only chance for survival, and no, before you ask, Jackson never became the Kanima.”

 

“What happened to Gerard?”

 

“He eventually he got what he wanted. Like in your timeline, Scott had used his connection with Alan Deaton to switch Gerard’s meds with Mountain Ash, only this time I knew about the plan. When the time came, I bit him, and he did not survive. By then, however, Victoria had died as well, and things were very strained between Chris and Allison. It was then that the new Argent family code was forged, so that never again an innocent would hurt in the crossfire between hunters and werewolves, like you were and Lydia and Jackson very nearly became.”

 

“When did Lydia become a Banshee, if Peter wasn’t trying to trigger her powers in order to get her to resurrect him?”

 

“I’m not sure when exactly Lyida’s powers started to manifest, but I know that it became apparent what Lydia was when the Darach started making sacrifices.”

 

“The Darach still happened? What about the Alpha pack?”

 

“Both still happened. The alpha pack somehow found out about Scott and came to try and recruit him...a true alpha would have been a valuable addition, even to an already strong pack. They tried to pressure Scott into joining, and he said no, the packs...both of them, as well as the Argents standing together behind him. Ethan, already in love with Danny, surrendered, and Aidan followed him. Deucalion was smart enough to know that it was over, and left, but not before Scott offered that Deaton could to heal Deucalion’s eyes if he promised to never again come back to Beacon Hills. Deaucalion accepted those terms and hasn’t been seen or heard from since. Kali and Ennis, however, were not so happy about the turn of events, and attacked. I killed Ennis, although Derek had already managed to injure him badly, while Chris killed Kali after she went after Allison, Isaac and Erica. As for the Darach...we managed to figure out what was going on a lot earlier, and the issue was taken care of without Scott’s pack getting overly involved...with the exception of Derek. Your father was never taken to be a sacrifice, and neither was Chris or Melissa. Scott and Allison never needed to sacrifice themselves, and the Nemeton was never activated, meaning the Nogitsune is still trapped inside...although thanks to your memories now we know why the Nemeton being awakened happening is such a bad idea.”

 

“Okay so, in summary; yes for the thing with Gerard, but no Matt issue since I imagine that all got handled when he went to the newspapers about what happened that day at the Laheys, and no Kanima, yes Alpha pack, but without fatalities on our side, yes Darach but without Nemeton waking up sacrifices, therefore no nogitsune, and now no Necromancer”

 

“Yes, that sounds right. I know Peter often comments on how hard our lives are, but , really, they could be a lot worse...you and your memories are evidence of the fact.”

 

Stiles shrugged, fighting back a yawn. His stomach was comfortably full, and he was as warm as he ever got these days, which combined to make him feel a little sleepy.

 

“Come on, I’ll show you to your room,” Talia offered, “Although I imagine that you will want to move in with your dad, once he finds out what’s happened.”

 

“Do you really think that will be okay...that it will actually happen?” Stiles asked.

 

Talia laughed, “Stiles...I don’t think anything on earth would ever make your dad not love you, especially after having lost you for almost seven years.”

 

“But he’s not my dad, though. He’s the dad of the Stiles that died in the fire. I’m the Stiles whose dad died in a fire...physically a completely separate person.”

 

At Stiles’ words, Talia looked at him with a sad expression on her face. She put her hand around his slender shoulders, picked up his backpack and put it on her other shoulder, and steered him gently out of the den and up the stairs, before heading up a second flight of stairs. Already fighting exhaustion, Stiles felt his legs begin to shake beneath him. Luckily it didn’t take long for Talia to reach a door and gently push it open, taking more and more of Stiles; weight as Stiles fought to stay on his feet. The room wasn’t overly large, but it was airy and light, with two large windows and a twin bed, as well as a pair of bedside tables, a lamp, a dresser and a simple desk, all made from the same wood. Stiles pulled off his jacket; glad that he had already taken his shoes off, before he collapsed onto the bed. Talia carefully manoeuvred him so that he was under the blankets and sheets, before she closed the curtains, plunging to e room into near darkness, despite it still being early afternoon. Stiles was already half asleep when Talia opened her mouth to speak to him, but he caught ever word of what Derek’s mother was telling him.

 

“Trust me, Stiles, once it’s all been explained to him, I really don’t think your dad is going to care which version of Stiles you are, only that you’re here, and that you’re safe and you’re alive.”           


	7. Chapter 6

Sitting in her kitchen working her way through a crossword, Talia kept one ear focused on the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat, something that she had done when her children were small and still had a nap during the day so she knew if they woke up. So far Stiles had been asleep for two hours, his heart rate going in a steady, if a little fast for someone who was sleeping, rhythm. Talia was ready to go if she heard even the slightest indication that Stiles’ heart rate had gone up, like it would if he was having a nightmare, but so far the teenager was sleeping soundly. Talia was grateful. It hurt to see anyone suffering, and even though she barely knew Stiles, her heart clenched painfully whenever she saw him, the mental scars from the past year as obvious as any physical scar. She did not regret her decision to see Stiles’ memories, but Talia knew that the teenager’s memories would feature in her own nightmares for many years to come.   


Stiles’ memory of the Derek of his timeline, dying in his arms, coughing up blood would perhaps be one that would haunt Talia the most. She knew, deep down, that it wasn’t her son that had died, but she couldn’t deny that she was eager to see Derek again, just to reassure herself that he was still alive.

 

Talia had a crossword puzzle in front of her, although she wasn’t having much success with it. Her mind was elsewhere, pondering what she could do to help Stiles. As much as she wanted to involve Stiles’ father and those he had been friends with in his previous timeline, Talia knew she couldn’t do anything without Stiles’ permission...she refused to do that to him, not after everything that he’d witnessed and been through.

 

Time, however, was against her. Within an hour or so Talia’s husband, Andrew would be home. Cora would normally be home already, but she was staying back at school to work on a group assignment with some of her friends. Both of them would immediately notice Stiles’ presence in the house, and want to know who the stranger was.   The truth would inevitably come out, but Talia would have to break it gently to her pack...especially since Stiles remembered all but one of them being dead (either having read about the deaths in the police reports on the fire, witnessed the death, or been involved in the aftermath of the death) ...and the only survivor of the Hale Pack other than himself had threatened him with death if she ever saw him again.

 

It was probably a good thing that Cora wouldn’t be home until after dinner, simply to give Stiles a little more time to settle and adjust before he saw a familiar face. From what the memories she had seen, Stiles had no memories of either herself or her husband, so Andrew’s arrival back home from work shouldn’t be too traumatic for Stiles.

 

Talia had never expected Stiles to remember her. If Deaton’s theory was correct, before the day of the Hale fire the reality that Stiles had come from and the one she was in presently had been the same, before the two split at some point on that day. Before the day of the fire Talia had never met Stiles, although she had known both his parents. The first time she lay eyes on him, outside of fleeting glimpses of the little boy at the shops, or at school while she was dropping Cora off, was the fearful face peering through the grate of the basement, promising to get them out, before he rushed inside and managed to pick the lock that Kate Argent had put on the basement door, as well as the heavy duty lock already on that door, since the basement had built with keeping newly turned betas and young pups in until they learned to control the shift on full moons. In the process of opening the door Stiles had broken the mountain Ash barrier, freeing the entire pack from captivity.

 

Less than twenty seconds later, the roof support had fallen, and Stiles had been unconscious on the ground, the heavy piece of wood lying across his chest, a deep gash on his head, hair already sticky with blood, oblivious to the house that continued to burn around them all. He never regained consciousness.

 

The memory of that day sent a shudder down Talia’s spine. Stiles had looked so tiny in Derek’s arms as Derek had carried him from the house, the cape of the Batman costume Stiles was wearing dangling down, long enough that Talia would bet that Stiles had probably spent the day tripping over it. She remembered clinging to Cora, watching in horror as Andrew, Peter and Derek performed CPR on the little body, tears falling from her eyes, both from the stinging smoke, and her grief as her husband, son and brother tried to preserve the little boys life until the ambulance that Laura had called arrived on the scene.

 

Talia never forgave herself for not hearing the roof support breaking and pushing Stiles out of the way. Every member of the pack that remembered the fire felt the same way, all of them hating the way that they’d all been so focused on getting themselves and their family members out of the basement, and of the burning house, that they didn’t realise the danger the little boy who had saved them was in until it was too late, and he had been fatally injured. None of them had been able to look at Stiles’ father in the eye after that, knowing that they could have prevented the pain the man had gone through in the aftermath of Stiles’ death.

 

A slight increase in Stiles’ heartbeat upstairs had Talia on her feet, and she headed up the stairs towards Stiles’ room, using her alpha powers to get there quickly. She peered through the ajar door before she stepped into the room, approaching the bed quietly. Stiles was still asleep, but there was a frown on his face, his brow furrowed, as if his nightmares were returning. Talia ran her fingers through his hair, making soothing noises that had always helped chase away her own children’s nightmares.

 

In his sleep, Stiles slowly relaxed, soothed by Talia’s reassuring touch, and Talia’s inner wolf chuffed happily, pleased to have been able to ease the teenager’s suffering. Talia and her wolf were, after all, one and the same and her wolf had seen Stiles’ memories as well. Even discounting how the Stiles of this timeline had died, her wolf already viewed Stiles as a member of the pack, just from the memories they had seen. Stiles had risked his life for members of the pack so many times already, it was impossible for Talia’s wolf not to regard Stiles as a member of the pack.

 

Talia watched Stiles as he slept, reflecting on the memories he had shown her. It was amazing how much was different between the two timelines, and, not for the first time, Talia felt so grateful that her family had been saved from the fire that would have destroyed them all, both at the time, and years down the track. It had been the pebble before the landslide that led to the ultimate destruction of her pack, leaving only Cora (having left Beacon Hills and what was left of the pack there behind months before, never to return) and Stiles still breathing, (with Stiles broken in mind and in spirit).

 

In his sleep, Stiles let out a soft whine, and Talia hushed him soothingly, continuing to run her fingers through his short hair, tucking in the blankets a little tighter around the teenager to keep him warm. He was, after all, part of the pack, and it was Talia’s job to look after her pack mates...and she had every intention of making sure Stiles would never be hurt and broken like he had been ever again.

TW

 

Stiles blinked back into consciousness, feeling calm and well rested for the first time in what felt like years, but really hadn’t nearly been that long. It took him a moment to remember where he was...why he wasn’t safe back in his bedroom, but then it all came flooding back, the memories, and the emotions that they brought. The grief and guilt over everything that had happened came flooding back, and Stiles felt a tear roll down his face. He startled violently when a warm hand gently brushed the tear away, and he blinked, looking through misty eyes up at Talia Hale.

 

“It’s okay,” Talia soothed gently, obviously able to hear the way Stiles’ heart was racing in his chest. Stiles, however, was already relaxing, something about being near Derek’s mom calming him down, much like his dad or Melissa could when he was feeling particularly anxious. Even Derek’s presence had been enough to give Stiles a sense of security, especially after the Nogitsune.

 

“How...how long did I sleep for?” Stiles croaked out, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

 

“Awhile. It’s almost five o’clock.”

 

“You must think I’m really lazy or something,” Stiles shook his head, sitting up, wincing when one of his bruised ribs from the last fight with the necromancer, or maybe it was from his tumble down the ravine the day he was brought to this reality twinged in protest of the movement. He wasn’t exactly sure when he’d gained the injury, but it hadn’t liked the sudden movement.

 

Talia’s look of concern was enough to convey how much of what Stiles had said was not the case, but she spoke anyway, Stiles idly noting how Talia always seemed to know what to say, at least to him. It was a trait that Derek, sadly, hadn’t inherited from his mother.

 

“On the contrary, thanks to what you showed me, I have a good idea of what you’ve been through, and frankly, I think you deserve a lot more rest than what you’ve allowed yourself. You’ve been through hell, Stiles. Nobody could think poorly of you if they knew what you had been through. I am, however, glad that you’re awake. I wanted to talk to you about something.

 

“Sure. Go ahead,” Stiles offered, leaning back against the headboard of the bed.

 

“My husband, Andrew, will be home soon. Normally he would be home already but I was able to delay him by asking him to pick up some things at the supermarket for dinner. Cora won’t be home until later, so it will be just the three of us for dinner. I want to know what you think we should tell him.”

 

“The truth,” Stiles supplied immediately, “I can’t ask someone to lie to somebody they love like I lied to my dad for so long. If I hadn’t done that then maybe things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did. The...the same applies, I guess, to Derek and Cora and the others. I can’t ask you to lie to your family...your kids, just because I’m going to feel weird about seeing them all alive again when I’ve just watched almost every single member of my pack...Scott’s pack, die.”

 

“That’s a very mature way of looking at things, Stiles.” Talia nodded proudly, “and you’re right. I think it will be best if we are open from the beginning. I should, however, think that there is one person who should know before the rest of the pack.”

 

“Who is that?” Stiles frowned. Talia smiled, rubbing her hand up and down Stiles’ arm

 

“Your dad. He’s never stopped mourning your death. We’ve already established that your presence here will be a long term, if not permanent thing. It would be cruel, to both of you, to keep you from one another. Besides, I’ve seen your memories. Do you think you would be able to keep out of trouble...be able to stay away from the Beacon Hills’ Sherriff’s department?”

 

Stiles felt a small, genuine smile cross his features. Talia was right, it wouldn’t take very long before he would want to start investigating the cases that the police were dealing with at the moment. Stiles had, after all, been immersed in the life of the local police since he was very small, even before his mom got sick. Now it was an ingrained part of his personality.

 

“When...when do you want to tell him the news?”

 

“I would think tonight after dinner would be acceptable. If you’re up to it we should do it in person, face to face. He’ll probably bring Melissa up here as well, if that suits you.”

 

“What about Scotty?”

 

“From what Derek has told me tonight Scott and his pack are having a study night at Kira’s house, so he and Isaac will not be at your father and Melissa’s house. Tomorrow after school you can meet them, if you feel like you are ready. I won’t lie to you Stiles; this is not going to be easy, for any of you. As much as you might find it hard to believe, your death in this timeline made a big impact on the lives of many of your friends. They grieved your death, just like your father did. ”

 

Stiles nodded in understanding. From what Talia had already told him he’d figured that things were different in this timeline, and he knew that it was time that he started to mentally prepare himself for coming face to face with his father once again. It hadn’t been very long since he’d buried his father, or what was left of him after the fire, and now he was going to see him again, alive and unharmed.

 

A sudden thought entered Stiles’ brain, coming out of nowhere, like most of Stiles’ thought tangents. It wasn’t Stiles’ dad though, was it? What if losing his son in the fire had changed this timeline’s version of John Stilinski. What if he didn’t want anything to do with Stiles? What if he’d built up his new life with Melissa and Scott and Isaac and the rest of the pack, and would turn his back on Stiles, regard him as somebody who was stealing the identity of his young son. What if he saw Stiles as a coward because he didn’t do anything to save the Hales from his timeline from the fire?

 

Before he knew it Stiles had tears rolling down his cheeks, his chest heaving as he sobbed, panic building throughout his body, his breathing becoming harsh and shallow once again as the beginnings of a panic attack began to take hold.

 

“Stiles? Stiles! Stiles, you’re okay, you’re safe...it’ll be okay.” Talia offered hurriedly, although Stiles’ keen mind noted the uncertainty in the alpha’s voice. Repeated panic attacks with unknown triggers were probably not something an Alpha werewolf would normally encounter.

 

Stiles startled when he felt Talia’s arms wrap securely around him, pulling him into a hug, with Stiles’ head resting against Talia’s chest, so close that even with his human hearing her could hear...could feel, the steady thumping of Talia’s heartbeat.

 

“You’re okay, Stiles, “it’s okay. Just try to breathe, in and out, nice and easy.”

 

Stiles echoed Talia’s breathing, trying to concentrate on Talia’s voice and hear heartbeat as well as the rise and fall of her chest, instead of the thoughts spinning around his head so fast that he was getting a headache. Eventually, however, the panic faded leaving Stiles exhausted and emotional, but able to breathe normally. Tears still rolled down his face, and he clung onto Talia. The Alpha werewolf let him stay there, tucking his head against her neck and letting him clutch at her jacket desperately.

 

“What’s wrong, Stiles?” Talia asked.

 

“What if...what if my dad doesn’t want anything to do with me? What if he’s got a new life and he doesn’t want me in it? What if he’s happy with Melissa, Scott and Isaac? I’m not even technically his son, just the hyperactive little bastard who ruins the lives of everyone around him. I killed my mom, and I killed my dad when I brought him into this mess. I killed Allison and Aidan when i let the Nogitsune into my head. Everyone I ever cared about is dead and it’s all my fault. Why the hell would the dad of the Stiles from this timeline want anything to do with me when his son was the real hero?” Stiles sobbed, his insecurities bubbling from his mouth like a flood he couldn’t stop. Talia rubbed his back as Stiles sobbed.

 

“He’ll be happy to see you, Stiles. He won’t care. You didn’t kill anyone. I’ve seen your memories, Stiles. None of what happened was your fault. Anyone would be proud to have you as a son, you hear me, anyone. Now come on, lets get some dinner into you before I call your dad. I think he’s going to be very happy to see you.”


	8. Chapter 7

Dinner with Derek’s parents was never something Stiles thought would be possible, so the fact that he, Talia and Andrew, were all sitting at the same table eating soup was surreal in it’s own way.

 

Physically, Derek and Cora had both taken mostly after their mother, but looking at Derek’s dad, Stiles could see the resemblance. It was unmistakable to Stiles that Derek was related to this man, even before Talia introduced him.

 

Andrew Hale was a quiet man, and Stiles was reminded strongly of Derek in that regard. When Andrew did speak it was with a quiet, reassuring quality to it that automatically made Stiles feel relaxed and calm. Unlike his son, however, Andrew seemed to always know what to say, and was obviously very good at reading people. When Talia had told him Stiles’ story, or at least a very condensed version of it, Andrew had said nothing, instead looking evenly at Stiles with penetrating eyes that Stiles was fairly sure could see right into his soul, before Andrew had smiled and casually started talking about baseball.

 

It soon became apparent that the differences between timelines did not extent to baseball results. They were exactly the same as they had been in Stiles’ timeline.

 

Stiles’ nerves were getting the better of him, making his stomach squirm at the mere prospect of food, but then he’d inhaled the scent of the soup that Talia and Andrew made together, and his appetite had returned, leaving him truly hungry for the first time since his dad had been taken by the Darach.

 

Strangely, there was something so...normal...about eating dinner with Derek’s parents. The way they interacted with one another, and with him, all seemed so natural, as if Stiles belonged there, as if they knew him...as if him jumping timelines and wandering out of the woods when he should be long dead wasn’t one of the strangest things to happen in Beacon Hills in the last twenty years.

 

Of course, it might not, Stiles didn’t know what sort of things had happened in this Beacon Hills since the fire...his arrival might not even count in the top ten, but even in his original timeline Stiles was reasonably sure this would have been fairly high on the list.

 

As it was, however, Talia and Andrew were treating the whole situation as if it was normal, and Stiles just went along with it, although for one of the first times in his life he was quiet, happier to just watch and listen to Talia and Andrew as they chatted casually to one another, only speaking if one of them spoke directly to him. It was fascinating, really, watching Derek’s parents interact with one another.

 

It was obvious, even to Stiles, who barely knew them, how much they loved one another. It was evident in the way they looked at one another, how they spoke to one another, the way that their hands had brushed together while they were preparing dinner, the way Andrew had stood at Talia’s back while she stirred the soup as it cooked and massaged her back, placing oft kisses on her shoulder and neck.

 

It reminded Stiles of his parents before his mom got sick. It was like watching a grown up Scott and Allison, or at least, the way Stiles had imagined a grown up Scott and Allison would be. The mental picture of Scott and Allison growing old together and being like those adorable old couples that you saw doing their shopping together made Stiles smile, but then the smile slipped off his face, and he hated himself for even thinking of it.

 

In his reality...his timeline... both Scott and Allison were dead, both of them never making it to their 18th birthday. Neither of them had the chance of ever getting old, or even living a full life together. Allison had died less than a year after she arrived in Beacon Hills. Even in this reality Stiles knew in his broken mind that the odds of both she and Scott surviving to old age were slim to none. The supernatural world, from his experience, didn’t allow for happy endings. Everyone might be alive at the moment, but who knew how long that would last. Stiles’ arrival in this timeline could be the catalyst that triggered the beginning of the end, like Peter killing Laura and biting Scott was in his original timeline.

 

Maybe Stiles would once again be responsible for the deaths of everyone he had ever loved or cared about? It wouldn’t be the first time after all.

 

Stiles closed his eyes, and a tear rolled down his cheek as he clutched the edge of the wooden table. If he was a werewolf, he was fairly certain he would be doing some serious damage to the wood with his claws from the way he was holding on, trying to not think about the tight feeling in his chest that restricted his breathing, the threat of an approaching panic attack. Stiles’ heart raced, pounding against his ribs.

 

“Stiles,” Talia called, rising to her feet and approaching him, Andrew approaching from the other side.

 

“Stiles’, it’s okay, it’s over, everyone is safe,” Talia reminded him gently, but at the same time with a hint of alpha power behind it. Neither Derek, nor Scott had ever been able to use their alpha powers to control Stiles, but when Talia spoke to him with that slight hint of her alpha power in her voice, Stiles immediately felt compelled to follow her instructions. His heart began to slow down in his chest, although it didn’t go completely back to it’s normal, rapid tempo. Instead Stiles’ settled into a state of mild anxiety, not nearly a panic attack, but he was on edge, apprehensive about when the next panic attack would strike.

 

Stiles’ panic attacks hadn’t even been this bad in the days immediately following his father’s death, although Stiles had been a little preoccupied trying to track down the necromancer, and then running for their lives and hiding out in the woods, fighting to keep Scott alive. He hadn’t really had the opportunity to really focus until after they’d defeated the necromancer, and by then he’d been practically catatonic with shock and grief.

 

The number of panic attacks Stiles was having now was, however, greater than the number of attacks he’d experienced in the days and weeks that followed his mother’s death, and those days hadn’t been pleasent for anyone who had cared about Stiles.  Even Jackson hadn’t teased Stiles back then, when nine year old Stiles was on the ground, fighting to draw a breath, tears and snot all over his face.

 

Andrew Hale was watching, concern written across his face, his hand resting reassuringly on Stiles’ shoulder.

 

“You okay, son? You gave me a fright; do you want to talk about it?”

 

“It’s nothing, just the usual stuff.” Stiles shrugged.

 

“Stiles...it might help,” Talia offered gently, “we want to help you, if we knew what triggered the panic attacks we might be able to stop them.”

 

“Not unless you can stop me from thinking, and even the adderal doesn’t make much of a difference as far as the panic attacks go,” Stiles replied sadly, shaking his head and lowering his eyes so he wouldn’t see the concern on Talia and Andrew’s faces.

 

“In...In the police reports about the fire it said that you were on anxiety medication at the time of the fire for panic attacks...you’ve been having trouble with panic attacks since then?” Andrew asked.

 

Stiles shook his head again, “They stopped about eighteen months after mom died, and I got weaned off the anxiety medication. I know my dad was thinking about putting me back on it after he found out what we’d been going through, and especially after the Nogitsune happened, but he never brought it up, he never knew how to bring up the issue. In hindsight I should have been back on the anxiety medication after the thing with Jackson being the Kanima, but there you go. I started having panic attacks again when the Darach took my dad, and they never really stopped after that. They just got worse after we stopped the Nogitsune...and now they’re worse again.”

 

Talia nodded her head in understanding. Andrew didn’t know any of what Stiles had been through, although that was only because Talia hadn’t had the chance to tell him. Stiles wasn’t bothered by that fact though...he didn’t want to be the reason Talia began hiding things from her husband. He knew first hand how secrets could tear the relationship between two people to shreds…it had been what had happened between him and his dad when he’d been hiding the truth about the supernatural. Even after the truth had come out things had still been strained…and then the Nogitsune had happened, and things had never been the same after that.      

 

“It’ll be alright, son,” Andrew offered reassuringly, his hand gently resting on Stiles’ shoulder, “you don’t have to worry about it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

 

‘You’ve been through a lot, Stiles, things that people three times your age wouldn’t even dream of. A lot of people who go through half of what you’ve gone through are in far worse shape than you are mentally. You’re doing so well.” Talia added.    

 

“We were just kids,” Stiles croaked out in a broken voice, “Derek was the only one of the pack that made it to his eighteenth birthday, and that happened years before everything went to hell. None of them got the chance to grow up. They all got killed before they got to experience what life was like. I hate that…that they won’t be able to graduate high school and go to college, they wont be able to get married and have little werewolf babies. Lydia won’t ever get her fields’ medal, Scott won’t be able to become a vet and marry Allison, Malia won’t be able to really get used to being human again, Erica won’t ever be able to really enjoy life without her seizures and she won’t be able to be catwoman, and one day marry Boyd and laugh with me over how Scott and Isaac act like puppies half the time. Liam had only been a werewolf for a couple of weeks, he was only just starting to get used to the whole thing, he was still so new at it all. They all died…they were too young,” Stiles inhaled, and was surprised to realise he had tears running down his cheeks.

 

“I know, Stiles,” Talia offered gently, “What you and your pack went through…it wasn’t fair…it wasn’t right, and nobody could claim that it was right. You’re right…you weren’t supposed to ever be put in those kinds of situations. None of you had the skills or the knowledge to cope…not even Derek, but you did the best you could and you minimalized casualties to the best of your abilities. I am so proud of the way you and your pack acted in your timeline. You made the best of a bad situation, and you did a marvellous job. You’re doing such a great job, Stiles. It’s not easy to cope with everything you’ve been through. If you ever feel like you need to talk to anyone you know that you can talk to myself, or Andrew or Alan. Anyone you trusted and felt comfortable with. It’ll take time, but, one day, eventually, the pain will ease, and it won’t hurt so much.”

 

Stiles nodded, although privately he wasn’t sure if seeing this timelines versions of his pack walking around, happy and healthy, was going to help or not.

 

At least he reasoned, within a few days he would know either way.

 

TW

 

Stiles gazed distantly out of one of the windows of the Hale’s den, a thick blanket wrapped around his shoulders for warmth. A familiar SUV was parked outside the house, driven there by Mrs. McCall, who had accompanied his dad into the house when Talia and Andrew had invited them inside. It was weird, knowing that His dad, Scott’s mom, and Derek’s parents, all knew each other so well. Stiles had head snippets of their conversation when they were in the foyer. The Sherriff and Andrew had been talking about baseball scores, and Melissa and Talia had been laughing and chatting happily about their respective children’s most recent test results. It seemed that Scott was passing all of his classes, although his results weren’t quite as good as they had been before the school had been blown up, although it was very close.

 

The adults had all gone into the dining room, and Stiles had only been able to hear fragments of what was being said. What he had heard, however, was enough to tell him that Talia was following the plan that she and Stiles had worked out together while Andrew did the washing up. Stiles would wait in the den while Talia would take Melissa and Stiles’ dad into the dining room and tell them calmly what had happened, as well as giving them a brief overview of what Stiles had been through, without going into any specifics or into very much detail. If Stiles was going to tell this version of his dad the truth about what he’d been through since the night of the Hale fire, it was going to come from his own mouth.

 

Stiles picked nervously at the edge of the blanket, thunder rumbling overhead as rain began to fall, reflecting his turbulent mood almost perfectly. Stiles’ mind was spinning, running through scenarios and considering the likelihood of it happening. Stiles hoped that this version of his dad would at least be understanding about what had happened, although he kept thinking of scenarios that involved his dad and Melissa storming out of the house, refusing to have anything to do with them, and banning him from having any contact with Scott and the rest of the pack. Stiles didn’t know what he would do if that happened. Derek’s parents were nice and all that, but it wasn’t the same. Stiles missed Scott and Derek and Lydia and Allison and the others...he missed them so much it hurt, like he was getting stabbed in the heart by a red hot fire poker. Being forbidden from seeing them...of hearing somebody identical in looks and sounding the same actually forbid him from being with his pack... would break Stiles, even more than he was already.   

 

Having just spent over a week experiencing what life would be like without any of the pack, Stiles shuddered at the very thought, his breaths catching in his chest slightly. Stiles closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down, focusing on getting his breathing back to normal. He let out a sigh of relief when his chest loosened hit’s vice like grip on his lungs, allowing him to resume breathing normally, and opened his eyes, wiping away the tears on his face as he did.

 

Drawing his knees up close to his cheat, Stiles put his arms on his knees, before resting his chin thoughtfully on his arms, watching as the rain fell on Melissa’s car, washing away the little bits of dirt he guessed it had gained en route up to the Hale’s house.

 

At least, soon, he would know one way or the other.


	9. Chapter 8

John Stilinski rubbed his hand wearily over his face, before he let his hand drop back onto the table as he went back to looking at Talia and Andrew Hale.

 

“Let me get this straight,” John said to them, being careful not to raise his voice too loudly, “Alternate realities are a...thing?”

 

“Alternate timelines...yes, Deaton believes so,” Talia replied, fiddling with the pen in her hands. In front of her was a rough diagram, identical to the one that Deaton had used to explain to her and Stiles.

 

“And the...a version of my son from one of these alternate timelines has managed to jump across to this timeline?”

 

“Yes. The timeline he is on veered from ours the night of the Hale fire, although there is no way to determine at what precise moment the two timelines split. Realistically, however, it can be narrowed down to at some point between...between your wife’s death, and the fire. In his timeline, Stiles did not go anywhere near the fire, the closest he got was being in the police cruiser when you got called out here because you couldn’t find a babysitter. He said that, while the fire was going, he was too scared to get out of the car.”

 

“Is...is there any way for him to get back?” John found himself asking, although there was a part of him that was already on the edge of his seat at the prospect of seeing what his baby boy looked like as a teenager.

 

“Deaton is looking into it, but the chances are not good...and I personally have my doubts as to whether or not returning would be in his best interests,” Talia admitted.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” John asked suspiciously, aware of the way Melissa’s hand tightened around his own.

 

“John...he...he showed me his memories. This version of Stiles...he might not have been involved in the fire, but he is very much involved in the supernatural element of Beacon Hills. He was practically pack second for most of the last year, even if it wasn’t official, and despite the fact that he is human. John...he...he’s been through hell. You know what being in a pack means, even for the human members?”

 

“Family,” John supplied in a tight voice, “The pack is the family, wolf or not.”

 

“Stiles is the only surviving member of his pack. He’s lost everyone, his best friend, his father, his friends...his pack...his family. The last six months for him has almost destroyed him. He’s gone through things that I couldn’t ever imagine; and looking at him I don’t think sending him back to a timeline....a reality where he will have no-one.”

 

John felt all air leave his chest, a cold feeling settling in his stomach as he realised what Talia was alluding to. Stiles had always been big on loving those he was close to with all his heart. In between memories revolving around bottles of bourbon John remembered how Stiles had struggled in the aftermath of losing his mother. He hated to think what it would have been like for Stiles to lose everyone that he cared about, his entire pack, in the short space of six months. Beside him, Melissa wiped tears from her eyes.

 

“Is he okay, physically?” Melissa asked. John closed his eyes, simply grateful that Melissa, practical, thoughtful Melissa had been there to ask the question.

 

“Physically yes, he appears to be generally healthy. He doesn’t smell sick at least,” Talia replied, “although at a glance I would say he needs to put on a bit of weight. He’s also a little colder to touch than most humans are, but from his memories that might be more of a supernatural thing than anything else.”

 

‘I thought you said that he was human?” John asked

 

“He is, but he’s been exposed to elements of the supernatural world that leave a taint,” Talia explained. “I’m actually more concerned about his mental health.”

 

John felt his heart drop, and he closed his eyes in pain at Talia’s words, old fears coming rushing back. When Claudia had been diagnosed they had asked if there was a possibility it was genetic. The doctor had told them that it was a possibility...Stiles was more at risk of developing the condition the rest of the population, but at the same time it wasn’t a condition that often occurred due to genetics. From that moment on John had been terrified by the prospect of Stiles developing and eventually dying from the disease that had taken Claudia away from them both, first mentally, and then, eventually, physically.

 

“Has he...he got...” John couldn’t say it; he couldn’t bring himself to associate that horrible condition and his son...or the boy who was his son in another timeline.

 

“No...he doesn’t have the same condition Claudia had. I’m sorry, I should have clarified what I meant. I’m no psychologist, nor am I medically trained but I would be amazed if he doesn’t have some of PTSD. He’s had at least four panic attacks in the last twenty four hours, and according him he’s been going through them fairly regularly for about four or five months. He has nightmares and wakes up screaming; I doubt he’s gotten much sleep lately...in fact, I know he hasn’t. He blames himself, wrongly, for much of what happened.”

 

“God...poor kid,” Melissa said in a soft voice. John swallowed, his stomach churning. He’d seen what PTSD did to people...friends he’d made at the academy that worked in larger cities that had been worn down to shadows of their former selves. Even Parrish, with his military history, had moments when John could see that the younger man was struggling with his demons. It was on those nights that, assuming that their shifts allowed it, John invited the deputy to join his family for dinner. The thought of a seventeen year old going through that without any friends or family to help him sent shudders up John’s spine.

  
It was in that moment that John knew that he couldn’t turn the kid away. He couldn’t turn anyone away who had been through half of what Talia reported that Stiles had been through, let alone a seventeen year old who was biologically his son...biologically the same person as the ten year old John had buried seven years ago beside his mother. If this version of Stiles wanted to go back to his original timeline, then John wouldn’t prevent him from doing so (although he would probably try to dissuade him), but if he wanted to stay, then John would welcome him with open arms into his family. A glance at Melissa told John that she had reached the same conclusion. The look of motherly determination on her face, the look identical to the one she had worn when she had offered to help John with Isaac, told him that this version of Stiles would have the full support of both of them.

 

“Where is he now?” John asked, taking Melissa’s hand in his own, both giving and taking comfort from physically feeling her hand in his own.    

 

“He’s in the den,” Talia offered, rising to her feet. John and Melissa followed her lead, with Andrew joining them as they left the dining room.

 

“How is he at the moment?” Melissa asked Talia, her voice professional. John hesitated, closing his eyes in pain. He didn’t want to walk in on the kid if he was already freaked out, although all he really wanted to do was see him.

 

“His heart rate is up a little bit from what is considered to be normal, but he smells reasonably calm...as calm as he gets anyway.” Talia replied in a soft voice, “he panicked a little earlier, but he managed to calm himself down before he got to the point where it got to the point of an actual panic attack. I would have gone to him immediately if he’d gotten that bad. Perhaps it was wrong of me, but I wanted to see if he was capable of calming himself down when he became anxious and avoid having a panic attack.”

 

John gave Talia a disapproving look at her words, not liking how she’d left the kid on his own, but he said nothing about it. It was probably a fair enough test really, but John hated the idea of the teenager suffering alone.

 

“Shall we?” Andrew offered, gesturing towards the den. The double doors into the room were closed, but there was a dim light shining beneath the door. John and Melissa both nodded, gripping one another’s hands tightly, and Talia knocked on the door before cracking it open.

 

“Stiles...it’s Talia and Andrew. We’ve got the Sherriff and Melissa McCall with us...do you mind if we come in here?”

 

John didn’t hear the response, but there must have been an affirmative, because Talia pushed one of the doors wider open and ushered the others into the room.

 

TW

 

Stiles jumped slightly when he heard the knocking on the door to the den, even though he’d heard the sound of approaching footsteps and muffled voices before somebody had knocked. He was more surprised that somebody had knocked on the door when it was Talia and Andrew’s house. He would have thought it would be more normal if they just opened the door and walked into the room. He looked towards the door, his innate curiosity making itself known for the first time in weeks.

 

“Stiles...it’s Talia and Andrew. We’ve got the Sherriff and Melissa McCall with us...do you mind if we come in here?” Talia asked after having poked her head through the gap in between the double doors. Stiles’ throat was dry, and his tongue felt swollen in his mouth at the prospect of seeing his dad and Melissa again, so didn’t even bother speaking, simply nodding in response to the question. The room was very dimly lit, only one of the table lamps switched on. Stiles had been comfortable in the semi darkness, looking out at the night. The darkness didn’t seem to impair Talia’s vision, because she nodded in response to Stiles’ nod of reply and pushed one side of the double doors open, leading those that were with her into the room. Stiles stood shakily on his feet, his hand resting on the window sill for support as he regained his balance, before he let his hand, drop, his focus completely on the pair that was standing with Talia and Andrew.

 

Tears filled Stiles’ eyes as he looked at his father, just like he remembered him to be, right down to the age lines around his eyes. The look of concern on the Sherriff’s face was so painfully familiar and it made Stiles’ heart clench tightly in his chest. It was like the necromancer had never gone after them all, that his dad had never been burned to death in an attack that had so closely echoed the Hale House fire, seven years prior, that had taken Stiles away from this timeline’s version of his dad   This version of Stiles’ dad was alive and well, judging from what Stiles could see.

 

Just as alive and well was Melissa McCall...the woman who had been a surrogate mother to Stiles even before his own mother had fallen ill. Melissa had always seemed to know what Stiles had needed, whether it was a firm hand to reign him in when he got a little too wild, or a gentle hug and soft, comforting words.

 

Stiles wasn’t sure what it was exactly that triggered it, but he felt something snap within him, and he couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He couldn’t tear his gaze from his dad and Melissa though, so he bit his lip, tears rolling down his face, completely aware of how pathetic he must look, breaking down at the sight of a man who might be identical in almost every way to his dad, including biologically, but wasn’t, and a woman was identical to the woman who had bandaged up his knees and kissed his grazed elbows better more times than his mother ever had, but wasn’t that person.

 

Stiles wasn’t prepared for the strong arms that wrapped around him, the hand that rested protectively on the back of his head, holding him close. Stiles ducked his head, resting it on the broad shoulder in front of him, clutching at the material of the Sherriff’s shirt as he sobbed into the man’s shoulder like a baby. He could feel Melissa’s hand on his back, rubbing reassuringly, and it only made him cry harder, remembering the days when Melissa had looked after him in the aftermath of them killing the Nogitsune, when he’d been left weak by the possession.

 

“Shh, it’s okay, kid, it’s okay. You’re safe here; we’re not going to let anything happen to you. You’re okay.” Stiles heard the Sherriff say, his voice identical to how Stiles remembered it to be.

 

“It’s okay to let it out...it’s okay, we’ve got you,” Melissa added softly.

 

Stiles sobbed “I’m sorry...so sorry. It was my fault...so much of it was my fault. I was the one that started it all. I was the one that dragged him out that night. I didn’t do enough to help Erica and Boyd, and I let Heather get taken and then I let...then I let him in and I should have been stronger and it’s all my fault that you died and everyone else died.” Stiles rambled in between sobs, “I should have died instead of Ally and Aidan.”

 

“Hey...hey, shh, it’s okay, everyone’s okay.” The Sherriff said soothingly, his voice lulling Stiles into quiet. Stiles closed his eyes, focusing on breathing in his father’s scent, revelling in the familiar feeling of the material of his dad’s shirt, because apparently his dad’s dress sense hadn’t changed between the two timelines. Stiles clung to the familiarity, imagining that it really was his dad they he was hugging, and the last few weeks had been some horrible nightmare.

 

In his head, in the darker side of his mind, where his memories of the nogitsune possession, and the darkness of the nemeton where pushed, a nasty voice told Stiles that he was being pathetic...worse than a baby clinging to it’s blanket or favourite stuffed toy, But Stiles was too drained, physically and emotionally to care.

 

He was being held by his father...and that was all that mattered.  


	10. Chapter 9

Watching from behind a tree across the road from Beacon Hills High School, Stiles tried to ignore how much like a creeper he felt, instead focusing on how his heart had pounded in his chest in shock and relief when he’d spotted Scott and the rest of his friends, all happy and healthy, walking into the building. It had taken a lot of restraint...restraint that Stiles hadn’t known he possessed, to prevent himself from sprinting across the road and hugging Scott tightly.

 

Even now, as the last few stragglers made their way into the building as the bell rang Stiles found it difficult to resist walking into the building. Being so close had brought to mind how much Stiles missed his friends, of spending time together, of laughing and plotting, and relaxing together in between fighting for life against whatever foe was currently trying to kill them all.

 

None of Stiles’ friends, however, had even looked at him. He knew he should have expected it. He would be surprised if Scott even remembered him. The version of him from this timeline was long dead after all. Stiles, standing where he was, would just be another teenager, no-one of importance, waiting until the last minute to walk into school, his hood up against the chill in the early morning air.

 

Talia had been right. Stiles wasn’t ready to face his friends again. She’d expressed her concerns that morning, that Stiles’ had practically broken down when he’d seen his dad, who knew to a certain extent what he’d been through, and maybe he should hold off on seeing his friends until they knew what was going on. Stiles had waved away Talia’s concerns, promising instead to keep his distance. Talia agreed, on the condition that Cora was told the same amount of information that Stiles’ dad had been given so she could intervene if it was needed. Stiles had given his approval to the plan, and Cora had been told, before she’d driven him to the school, since she had been heading there herself.

 

Stiles sighed, knowing that now that class had started there was nothing left for him to see. He walked away from the school, walking past the familiar sights of the Beacon Hills he remembered. Instead of the last time he was walking through Beacon Hills, when he was focused on getting to Deaton, Stiles took his time, taking in the familiar surroundings. He got a serving of curly fries from the same little diner that his dad used to let him get some from when they were together on stake outs (Stiles would make his dad get a salad).

 

It wasn’t until Stiles was passing the last of the shops that he realised the direction he was heading along. It was the road that led out to the cemetery. Stiles could feel himself being drawn to it, like a siren call, except he knew that his being drawn there had nothing to do with the supernatural.

 

It had been far to long since he had visited his mom, and Stiles’ couldn’t deny that he wanted to visit the places where the Hales and Allison had been buried, just to make sure it wasn’t some weird dream (ignoring the fact that he’d just seen Allison less than an hour before as she walked into school, side by side with Lydia, laughing about something that somebody had said, her left hand tucked into Scott’s right hand, where it had always belonged, in Stiles’ opinion. Sure, Scott and Kira had been cute together, but Stiles had always thought that Allison and Scott were destined to always be together.)

 

Beacon Hills cemetery was a few miles out of the town itself, but the sun was shining, despite the cool breeze, so Stiles kept walking, listening to the sounds of the woods that lined either side of the road. He took a couple of shortcuts that he knew, and it wasn’t long before he reached his destination. Stiles pointedly avoided thinking about the last time he was here as he slipped through the old wrought iron gate and started walking, deciding to check on Allison ’s burial site first. He blinked away tears as he read the name of the tombstone, relief flooding him as he read the name, age and death date of a man named Nigel Simons, who had been a sprightly 94 years old when he had died on the same day that Allison was supposed to have died.

 

Swallowing back tears, Stiles kept walking, stopping at the plots that Boyd, Heather and Erica had been buried in. All of those tombstones had different names on them as well, and Stiles’ legs had almost given way beneath him as he cried with relief.

 

The large family plot that had been used to bury the remains of Derek’s family didn’t even exist in this timeline, and Stiles swallowed as he remembered once placing flowers on the grave when he had come to visit his mom, the summer in between his sophomore and junior years. The next time he’d seen Derek the then alpha werewolf had been almost friendly, going as far as nearly smiling at Stiles. Stiles had known that Derek knew who had been the one to leave the flowers, and that Derek had appreciated the gesture.

 

The next time he’d gone to visit his mom, there had been a bundle of flowers on her grave, and Stiles knew it hadn’t been him or his dad who had felt it there. He didn’t have werewolf powers, so he couldn’t smell who had left them, but he was willing to bet it had been Derek.

 

With the thought of his mother, Stiles turned his back on the area where the Hale family plot had been, and headed towards the area that his mother had picked out when it became apparent that her days were numbered. Stiles wished he’d thought to get some flowers to leave, but he figured that with everything that had happened, his mom would forgive him. He didn’t leave flowers that often for his mother back in his original timeline anyway.

 

Stiles bit at his lip as he approached his mother’s grave. Like so many things in Beacon Hills itself, the tombstone of Claudia Stilinski was exactly how Stiles remembered it.

 

“Hey mom,” Stiles said softly in greeting, “so...I guess you know what’s been going on lately, from your spot up in the clouds. I was going to ask the next time I came to see you if you could look after the...the pack for me, you know, up in heaven...make sure they don’t annoy anyone they shouldn’t annoy, but...but it looks like now they’re still in my jurisdiction...back in my jurisdiction...whatever,” Stiles shrugged .

 

“I hope you’re not upset at me for reacting like I did. It just...nothing made sense anymore...nothing mattered. I...wanted to die, mom...I was tired...so tired. I still am, but now everyone’s back, and I can’t tell them what I went through because then they’ll pity me and...”    

 

Stiles broke off. As he spoke he’d been looking around, taking in the familiar sites, the reassuring familiarity of the area that surrounded his mother’s grave, so familiar...except for one detail. In his timeline, the plot next to his mother was empty. Stiles had never been told as such, but he instinctively knew that it had been left for his father, when the time came. He hadn’t been buried there, in the end though, the fire that claimed his life leaving little left to bury.

 

In this timeline, the plot had a tombstone, and, presumably, a coffin beneath the green grass. Stiles closed his eyes and breathed in a few deep breaths, letting them out slowly, before he opened his eyes, looking at the tombstone beside his mothers.

 

_‘Genim “Stiles” Stilinski_

_Devoted Son and Friend_

_The bravest hero Beacon Hills has ever known_

_Who sacrificed his life to save those he did not know_

_5 th January 1995 to 16th May 2005_

_Aged 10 years_

_It’s not who we are underneath,_

_but what we do that defines us_

_You will always be our Batman’_

 

At the top of the tombstone was a Batman symbol, engraved into the stone, and Stiles ruefully smiled as he remembered how excited he had been to wear his Batman dress up to school on the day of the Hale fire. It had been one of the first times he’d been genuinely excited about doing anything since his mother had died.

 

“I wondered how long it would take you to come out here,” a voice from behind Stiles observed quietly. Stiles jumped, whipping around, a small smile breaking out on his face when he saw his dad...no, the Sherriff, standing a respectful distance behind him.

 

“What...what are you doing here?’ Stiles asked curiously.

 

“Talia rang me this morning after you and Cora had left. She said that you were going to be out and about in Beacon Hills this morning. I guessed you would end up here. You always were really curious.”

 

“The thing is, I’d actually forgotten about the fact that I...I mean...this version of Stiles...was buried here. I was planning on visiting mom, and then I saw it, and...yeah.” Stiles shrugged, looking back at the two graves. He heard the Sherriff’s footsteps, and the rustling of his work pants as he sat cross legged on the grass beside Stiles.

 

“Everyone was shocked by what happened...by the fire,” The Sherriff said slowly, “I won’t deny that I was in a good place afterwards...I wasn’t in a good place beforehand either. I don’t know how much you remember of the time after your mom died, but...but I didn’t cope well...I drank too much and I worked too much. What happened to my son was partially my fault. I was supposed to pick him up from school that day, but I didn’t. Originally he was going to go home with Scott, but he was home sick on that day, and I forgot to go and get Stiles from school. I wasn’t involved in the investigation...and in the end they brought in some federal agents because of the amount of media coverage the fire was getting and the fact that everybody at the sheriff’s office was too close to it...to Stiles. They think he overheard Kate and one of her cronies talking about their plans for the evening, and put two and two together. They think he headed towards the Hale house to warn them, but by the time he got there the fire had already started. Stiles went into the house using the front door, and...and the rest is history.”

 

“In my timeline Scott was at school that day,” Stiles thought out loud, “I know...there’s a photo of us together. He was dressed up as superman. I went home with him and Melissa and we had mac and cheese for dinner before you picked me up and took me home. I’d only been in bed for half an hour when you got the call about the fire. It’s weird that one little difference changes so much.”

 

The Sherriff nodded, “When Talia told me, the first thing I was worried about was you...but last night, after Melissa and I went home, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I thought about your dad...how he’s spent all this time with you that I missed out on with my son. He must be missing you heaps. It was obvious from last night that you’re close”

 

Stiles shook his head, “We were close, but he isn’t missing be, trust me.”

 

The Sherriff frowned before realization dawn on his face, “Shit, sorry. When Talia said that you’d lost everyone I didn’t realise she meant...shit. How long...how long has it been?”

 

“About three weeks, give or take a few days. Time sort of lost all meaning for a bit there, so I’m not exactly certain. Everything was just a blur.”

 

The Sherriff nodded, reaching out and putting a solid, warm hand on Stiles’ shoulder, “I know how that feels, kid. I lost a lot of time after Stiles...after Stiles died. I drank too much, not caring about anything. I would’ve been dead within a few years if it hadn’t been for Melissa slapping me in the face and telling me that neither Stiles nor his mother would have wanted me to wallow in my own grief like I was, that I needed to keep going on for both of you. Then Talia and Andrew come to me and tell Melissa and I why Kate Argent wanted to kill them all...why Stiles died. I didn’t want to believe, but then Talia Hale shifted into her full wolf form...it was a damn good thing I was sober then, because otherwise I would have thought it was some sort of alcohol induced hallucination.”

 

“What did you do next?” Stiles asked. Talia had given him the short version, but he wanted to hear things from the sheriff’s perspective.

 

“I refused to have anything to do with their family...which was made harder with all the media coverage. They’d want interviews with both me and the Hales, and I’d need to help them keep their cover.”

 

“The media coverage was that bad?” Stiles asked curiously.

 

The Sherriff snorted, “Yeah, Oprah, Ellen, they both showed an interest. You know that Batman movie that got released a few week after the fire?”

 

“You mean Batman Begins...the first of the Nolan and Bale Batman movies? Why?”

 

“They dedicated it to Stiles. It was a big deal. All the cast visited your class at school in costume to try and cheer them up. Melissa has a photo of Scott with them all.”

 

“But...why would it be such a big deal? Kids die all the time, as much as it sucks, even if the circumstances were a little different.”

 

The Sherriff shook his head, “It didn’t really make sense to me either at first. You were my little baby boy, and I didn’t understand why all these other people were grieving your death when they didn’t even know you. Melissa had to explain it to me. It was like he was a real life superhero; even though he was only ten. The entire town...hell, the entire country, just fell in love with Stiles and the story. Sure, the interest died down eventually, but we still get reporters coming through occasionally, usually around the anniversary of the fire, but it doesn’t happen very often.”

 

Stiles nodded in acceptance. It was sort of understandable, he figured.

 

“But I’m pretty sure when you asked me what I did after Melissa told me to get my head sorted and the Hales revealed their true colours, you didn’t mean my reaction towards the Hales, and the media circus. Once I’d managed to get myself to the point of being able to function on a day to day basis...which took awhile, I went back to work. You probably remember how much your dad threw himself into his work after your mom died...I’m willing to bet that I worked even more than that, anything to make me forget how much loosing Stiles hurt...to keep me away from the house, empty of life.” The Sherriff sniffed, his voice catching slightly in his throat, although Stiles didn’t draw attention to it. Instead, he sat in silence, waiting for the man to continue

 

“I was working over seventy hours a week, sleeping in my office, anything to avoid going home. In my head I was justifying it as paying back the community for everything they’d done for me since Stiles died. The community paid for his funeral, and I didn’t need to worry about cooking myself dinner for at least eight months thanks to all of the food that people kept giving me. They didn’t try and fire me, even when it was obvious that I wasn’t the best option for the job, so I thought I should be working hard to pay the community back for their kindness. It went on like that until I got a phone call from one of the neighbours, saying that I needed to go home. When I got there I found Scott curled up at the front door, crying. I let him in and he went straight up to you room and curled up on your bed and just sobbed his little heart out. I’d never seen him so shattered, not even when his dad left. It reminded me that I wasn’t the only one that had lost Stiles. I stopped working so much, although it was still more than it had been when Stiles was alive, and spent the time I wasn’t at work with Scott, looking after him when his mother was working. He was the one that helped me the most with the grief.”

 

“He’s good like that,” Stiles nodded in agreement.

 

“Melissa and I are dating, I don’t know if anyone’s told you that, but I thought you should know.” The Sherriff told him, a slight cringe crossing his face, as if he was expecting Stiles to react negatively to the news.

 

“Talia told me. She said that you were living together, with Scott and Isaac.” Stiles told him with a small smile. The Sherriff let out a sigh of relief.

 

“Oh...okay then, that’s...that’s good that you know...and about the thing with Isaac too.”

 

“I think he ended up better off in this timeline, as far as his dad was concerned. From what Talia said he got away from his dad over a year earlier than he did in my timeline.” Stiles offered.

 

John cringed, “Poor kid...it’s amazing how much he’s changed since he got taken out of there. He’s a heck of a lot happier than he was.”

 

Stiles nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’m glad that he’s happy. My...my timeline’s version of Isaac, we didn’t really get on all that well. We were friends, you know, still pack, but we didn’t like each other all that much.”

 

“Why is that?” The Sherriff asked. Stiles felt his cheeks go red, and he ducked his gaze in embarrassment.

 

“It was my fault, really. Isaac didn’t really know any better, he was just being friendly, and I was really mean to him a lot of the time. ”

 

“Stiles, it’s okay...you don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

 

Stiles shook his head, lifting it up so that he could rest his chin on his knees as he played with random blades of grass at his feet.

 

“I was jealous,” he admitted, “Scott and Isaac were really close. I’d never had competition for my position as Scott’s best friend before, and then Isaac came along and I got really jealous and I took it out on Isaac, who really didn’t deserve to have to deal with my issues. I was okay when Scott and Allison got together, because I knew that Allison wasn’t pushing into my space. She was strictly in the girlfriend space, but Isaac was different.”

 

Stiles turned his head and looked up at the Sherriff, his eyes shining with tears, “Does that make me a bad person?”

 

“No, it doesn’t...although it might make the fact that I’m considering asking you to move in with Melissa and Scott and Isaac and I slightly awkward.  

  


	11. Chapter 10

“You...you what?’ Stiles stammered, “You were...you were going to ask me if I wanted to move in with you?”

 

“I’m still considering it. I want to ask Scott and Isaac about it before I do it officially, once they know about you, but yeah, it’s a possibility.”

 

“Seriously...you would do that...for me...even though you don’t know anything about me?”

 

“I might not be a werewolf, but I can tell when somebody is lying to me, and every word that Talia said about what you had been through in the last year last night was the truth. On that alone I would willingly give you a place in my home, even if you had no connection to my son.”

 

“Is Melissa okay with it?” Stiles asked nervously.

 

The Sherriff laughed, “Are you kidding, when we got back home last night she started cleaning out the spare room. It’s a good thing neither of the boys are particularly observant, because it would have been a bit difficult to explain why we’re cleaning a room out when they don’t even know you’re here.”

 

Stiles gave a weak grin, “How do you think they’ll take it...me being...here?” Stiles glanced down at his scuffed shoes. He’d almost said back instead of here, but that wouldn’t be right...he was a completely separate person to the Stiles of this timeline after all.

 

“They’re good kids, they’ll be alright. It might take awhile for them to adjust, but they’ll get there. It’ll be different for each of them. I can’t imagine Scott being an issue, despite everything that’s happened and with him being an alpha he’s still very open and eager to keep everyone happy. Isaac is more cautious about who he lets in, for obvious reasons, but at the same time he’s generally pretty friendly. I think you’ll fit in just fine.”

 

Stiles found himself smiling at the reassuring tone of the Sherriff’s voice, before re looked back up towards the two graves.

 

“I’m sorry, about what happened to Stiles...your Stiles. You being alone...it was always what I worried about the most, after mom died. I’m sorry you had to go through what you did.”

 

“It’s okay, it’s not like you could have done anything to prevent it. Besides, from what it sounds like if Stiles hadn’t died that day it wouldn’t just be the Hales getting killed, but a lot more people further down the track. In my opinion it only makes him more a hero.”

 

Stiles blinked, remembering the night of the Lacrosse final, when his father had proclaimed him to be a hero. As if he could sense that Stiles was getting drawn into his memories again, the Sherriff rose to his feet, brushing dirt and damp leaves from his pants. Once he’d finished, he reached down and pulled Stiles upright. Stiles startled, not expecting the gesture.

 

“What?’

 

“ I think it’s time for you head back to Talia’s. You’re not well enough to stay out in this cold all day, and we’re still going to have to figure out how to get you a fake ID and all that...we probably should get all that sorted before you land yourself in hospital with pneumonia or something like that.”

 

“Can’t I stay with you, in the cruiser?” Stiles asked.

 

The Sherriff shook his head, “Sorry bud, I’ve got a mountain of paperwork waiting for me on my desk, and most of the deputies still remember ...remember Stiles. The resemblance is too obvious without a plausible excuse. I’ll see you when my shift is finished, I’ll be there for when Talia introduces you to the pack, don’t worry.”

 

Stiles sighed and nodded, shooting one last fleeting look over his shoulder before he let the Sherriff steer him gently out of the cemetery and into the cruiser.

 

  

TEEN WOLF

 

Stiles quietly slid off the stool he had been sitting on, looking cautiously over his shoulder at Talia, who was washing up the dishes, and had politely refused his offer to help. It had been decided that Scott and his pack would be told about Stiles that very evening, before they figured out that something was up and found out accidently. In preparation for having Scott’s pack over for dinner both Talia and Stiles knew how much food would be required, so once the Sherriff had dropped him off at the Hale’s house Stiles and Talia had been busily preparing food. Stiles used some of his mother’s recipes that he’d memorised over the years, and he helped Talia with a few things she had been making.

 

It had been busy work, which hadn’t allowed for much thinking or dwelling on his memories from his original timeline, even without his adderal dosage for the day. Stiles was glad, however, to not have the chance to sit and think about things.  

 

Now, however, all the preparations had been finished, and there was little for Stiles to do. He had tried sitting quietly, flicking through a newspaper to fill the time, but it wasn’t holding his interest, and focusing was proving to be impossible.

 

What did capture Stiles’ interest were the framed photographs that lined the wall of the open plan kitchen and informal dining room. Checking to see if Talia had noticed, or was making an obvious sign of disapproval, Stiles edged nervously towards the photos, looking at them curiously.

 

A small smile broke on Stiles’ face as he saw a picture of a teenaged Derek wearing his basketball gear and holding a trophy, beaming happily at the camera. It was a side of Derek that Stiles had never seen before, and he wondered if the photo had been taken before or after the fire. There was a black band of tape around Derek’s bicep, but other than that there was no indication of the date the photo got taken. Derek’s hand covered the plaque on the trophy, so that was no help. Stiles let the matter drop and looked at some more photos. There was a photo of a toddler aged Derek, along with a young Laura, cured up together, their heads touching as they looked at one another, looking like they were oblivious to the person who was holding the camera, and were exchanging some form of secret.

 

Stiles blinked in surprise when, in amongst the family photos, there was a photo on the wall with two wolves in it, surrounded by four pups of varying sizes and colours. None of them were looking at the camera, but Stiles was willing to bet that the slightly larger black wolf would have red eyes and the pups would all have amber eyes. In the background of the photo the full moon was clearly visible, illuminating the scene clearly. It looked like something out of a wildlife magazine, like the ones that Deaton had in the reception area of the clinic.      

 

Walking a little further along the wall, Stiles immediately noticed the photo of the original Hale house hanging in a prominent position up on the wall, recognizing it instantaneously from the articles about the Hale fire when he was originally researching it back when Scott first got bitten.

 

Beside the photo of the Hale house there was a family picture, taken out in the woods. Stiles recognized Talia and Andrew, and Derek and Cora, and Laura, but there were two other people in the photo that Stiles didn’t recognise. One was a young man who looked like he was a little older than Laura, but looked too much like her to be her boyfriend. The other stranger was younger, aged between Derek and Cora, Stiles guessed. He looked enough like Derek and the rest of the family that Stiles immediately knew that he was a member of the family as well. Stiles thought back to the few occasions Derek and Peter ever talked about the fire, and how he had looked at the list of victims according to the official records and police report.

 

“The ones you don’t know are Derek’s brothers,” Talia supplied from her place, not far from where Stiles was standing. Stiles jumped violently, having not noticed her approach, and was immediately grateful his hands had been empty, since he would have dropped anything he was holding Talia approached as Stiles took a moment to recover from the shock.

 

“My eldest son, Matthew,” Talia offered, pointing at the older man in the picture that Stiles hadn’t known, “and my youngest son, Tyler. Matthew is 28, and Tyler is 20 years old. Neither of them live at home anymore...Matthew is a engineer in Sacramento, and Tyler is a carpenter here in Beacon Hills, so I imagine you’ll see them around from time to time.”

 

Stiles nodded, forcing his gaze onto other photos. His eyes were drawn to another photo, larger than the others, this time featuring a large group of people at a wedding. Once again he could pick out Derek and his immediate family, but this time he could spot Malia, and Peter too, his arm around a smiling brunette, who in turn was cradling a small baby. In front of them were three young girls, all in flower girl dresses

 

“Peter’s wife and kids?’ he asked softly, knowing that Derek once mentioned that Peter had lost his wife and two daughters in the fire.

 

Talia nodded “Yeah, that’s Amanda. We’re very fortunate that she’s the most artistic person in the family, and the one who takes most of the photographs. As it was she had all of the baby photos and Andrew and my wedding photos at her house because of a project she was working on at the time of the fire, so we didn’t lose them when we lost the house.”

 

“That...that’s good,” Stiles managed, having not thought of that. The Hales hadn’t suffered any casualties in the fire, but they had still lost their home, and all of their belongings.

 

“The older two girls are the twins, Imogen and Sophie. They were two when the fire happened. Sophie and Matthew were the only ones that needed to go to hospital in the aftermath, because of the smoke inhalation and the fact that they are human. The rest of us could shake it off, but Matthew was in for observation for 24 hours, and Sophie was in for a little longer than that because she had a second degree burn on her arm,” Talia offered, “Julia was born about seven months after the fire. Amanda and Peter’s son, Elijah, is the youngest member of the pack, he is two, and has everyone wrapped around his finger. Malia often visits her half siblings, they all love her, and she loves them as well.”

 

Stiles nodded, able to picture Malia playing with her four younger siblings in the preservation whenever she got the chance.

 

“That there,” Talia said pointing at another couple in the wedding photo, “is my younger sister, Nikki, and her husband Simon. They’ve got two children, Jed and Natalie. Jed is seven years old, and I’ll warn you now, he’ll probably be the most excited about you being here. You’re kind of his hero. He was only eight months old when the fire happened, so he doesn’t remember it, but he’s been told the story. He’s been going through a superhero phase since he was able to say superhero, and, well, Batman has always been a favourite...although he will admit to Wolverine being his second favourite...I think it might be because of the claws.”

 

Stiles snorted and doubled over laughing at the idea of Derek’s cousin being a superhero nerd to rival Stiles himself. He had a fleeting thought of Derek being forced to play superheros with Jed, having to play the villain...or even better, the sidekick, while Jed, in some superhero costume, battled his way across the yard, fighting imaginary enemies.

 

“Sorry...just had a very weird mental picture...go on,” Stiles apologies, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

 

Talia, however, was smiling, “Don’t apologise, I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you genuinely happy. You deserve to be happy. Anyway, where was I, oh yeah? Natalie...she’s four and like the twins she’s a bit of a girly girl. She also likes to help Amanda take care of Elijah. It might take a bit for Natalie to warm up to you, but she’s a bit wary of outsiders at the moment. It’s not personal, but it’s just her reaction to what she’s being taught before she starts school.”

 

Stiles nodded, “don’t shift in front of outsider?” he asked.

 

Talia nodded, “exactly. That brings us to the last two members of the pack you don’t know. My youngest brother Aaron, and his wife Molly.” She pointed to the bride and groom in the photograph. The groom had the same eyes as Talia and Derek, so Stiles had immediately pegged him as a member of the Hale family, but hadn’t guessed where exactly he fitted in.

 

“Aaron is an architect, he’s actually the one who designed the house when we rebuilt. He and Molly live about fifty miles outside of Beacon County. Molly is a werewolf too, she comes from a pack that is based a bit further south, but she decided to officially join our pack when she and Aaron were engaged. They still often visit her original pack though, so she still has contact with her family there. That is it, as far as the pack goes...you know everyone...and it won’t be long before they’ll all be here, or rather, Scott’s pack will all be here. It’s a good thing it’s a Friday night, because I imagine that everyone will want to stay up late talking.”  

 

Stiles nodded, conceding that, knowing his pack, Talia was probably right. It was going to be a long night.


	12. Chapter 11

Stiles wasn’t mentally prepared for the sound of a car parking in the gravel outside the Hale family house, his heart rate kicking up a notch as he inwardly freaked out over the prospect of coming face to face with his friends once again. Andrew was at his side in a moment, having left work early so he could be there for Stiles...or really whoever in the pack that needed a bit of reassurance during the meeting.

 

“It’s okay, Stiles...it’s just Cora. Remember, the others are coming up after Lacrosse practise, even Derek isn’t coming up until then.”

 

Stiles relaxed, letting out the shaky breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. Stiles knew he was being stupid. He knew for a fact that the pack weren’t expected for at least another hour, maybe an hour and a half, depending on how the team trained. Knowing Coach, it would probably be more like two hours before they finished the training, plus the time it would take for everyone to have showers and drive up to the Hale’s house.

 

Really, Stiles wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. While it was true that aside from Cora, everyone he would be seeing tonight had been dead in his universe. Talia had decided that it would be best if, the first time Stiles met the pack, it was limited to Scott’s pack. Peter, Cora and Malia, therefore, wouldn’t be there. Neither would any of the members of Derek’s family that Stiles hadn’t met in his original timeline. Scott, Isaac, Derek, Erica, Boyd, Jackson, Danny, Lydia, Kira and Liam would all be there, along with the Sherriff and Melissa. Ethan and Aidan wouldn’t be there either, although Stiles imagined that Danny would be telling them soon enough. Like with Talia and Andrew, Stiles didn’t want to be the reason Danny started keeping secrets or hiding things from Ethan.

 

Stiles fiddled with a loose thread in the sleeve of the jacket he was wearing, closing his eyes as he tried to settle his breathing down, smiling inwardly as he managed to fight off the panic attack that had been bubbling beneath his skin.

 

Opening his eyes, Stiles saw Cora looking through the door nervously, her school bag hanging over her shoulder.

 

“Everything okay?” She asked, her tone calm, although she was obviously curious about why her dad had his arm around Stiles’ shoulder, both of them sitting on the floor of the bedroom Stiles had been given.

 

“Yeah, we’re good. How was school?”

 

“Fine,” Cora shrugged, “Scott and his pack are a bit curious about why we’re having a meeting tonight...they kept asking me if I knew what was up. I didn’t tell them anything, but they knew that I know what’s going on. Scott’s getting much better at telling when he’s being lied to.”

 

“They’ll know soon enough.” Andrew reasoned calmly, “Can you go and see if your mom needs a hand please?”

 

“Sure,” Cora nodded with a smile, before she disappeared from sight. Stiles listened to the sound of her footsteps fading down the stairs.

 

“I can’t wait to see them again,” Stiles admitted, “Maybe it’s because there’s a part of me that can’t believe they’re all gone, that they’ve just all been away for the last few weeks, but there is a part of me that can’t wait to see them again, while there is another part of me that is confused because I’d managed to convince myself that I wasn’t going to see any of them ever again, and in a few hours everyone will be here. I hate this,” Stiles tilted his head back, feeling his head connect solidly with the wall behind him. Andrew simply patted his shoulder reassuringly, not knowing what exactly to say to comfort the teenager.

 

TW

 

As it turned out, it was almost three hours before Scott’s pack was all present at the Hale house, by the time Lacrosse practise finished, and they’d showered, and then Scott and Jackson had been forced to stay behind and clear up some of the equipment that had gotten muddy during the practice. Stiles had watched through an upstairs window as everyone had arrived and went into the dining room, where the meeting would be taking place.

 

“Hey buddy, you okay?” a soft voice asked, and Stiles startled, looking up at the Sherriff with wide eyes. Stiles knew that he should probably already be downstairs, ready for Talia and Deaton to start talking, but something in his head was making him hesitate, wanting to keep his distance. Deep down, Stiles knew it was because he was scared of how the others would react; terrified of being rejected by the only people he’d ever been friends with...who had made him feel like he belonged.

 

Stiles gave a small nod in response to the Sheriff’s question, before he adverted his gaze back out the window.

 

“Come on, it’s time to go. They’re going to be happy to see you, you know that, right?”

 

“How can you know that, though?” Stiles asked, “I mean, they’re all happy with their own friendships, they don’t need me butting in. Scott’s got Isaac as a best friend, and really, all I ever was back...back in my original timeline, was Scott’s best friend. Everyone else tolerated me. Yeah, Lydia and Allison sort of became my friends over time, until I got Allison killed, but Isaac, Derek, Boyd...Danny and Jackson...Erica most of the time...they didn’t like me...they weren’t friends with me. They only put up with me because I was Scott’s friend.”

 

“Hey...I’m sure that’s not true.” The Sherriff told Stiles, “and even though they don’t know you very well I know these kids, and they’d look out for you and take you into their group...their pack. Scott would never turn anyone away, and he’s had a good influence on Isaac. It’ll be okay.”

 

Stiles sighed and nodded, getting to his feet and letting the Sherriff put his arm around his shoulder and steered his out of the room and down the stairs, exhaling nervously once they reached the bottom of the stairs and the Sherriff let his arm drop back to his side. Stiles missed the reassuring weight of the Sherriff’s arm, but he knew why the Sherriff was keeping his distance. It was going to be hard enough to keep Scott from figuring out what had happened until the right moment without the Sherriff walking in with Stiles under his shoulder. Stiles hadn’t changed that much in appearance in the last seven years after all. To a lesser extent Jackson, Danny, Lydia, Erica and Isaac would all be in the same boat. They had all known Stiles since elementary school, and Jackson, Lydia, Danny and Scott had all been in Stiles’ class the year of the fire. It would need to be explained to them why their former classmate, who had been dead for 1seven years, was now sitting at the table with them, looking like he was the same age as them, even though he had died at the age of ten.

 

As they approached the dining room Stiles could hear the low murmur of voices in the room. He could pick out Scott’s voice, and Derek’s. Jackson, Danny, Kira and Isaac were talking about lacrosse. It was all so...normal, as if this was an everyday occurrence, as if none of them had died. Of course, Stiles belatedly thought, as far as this reality was concerned, none of them had died. The only one that had died had been him.

 

“Come on, let’s go,” the Sherriff offered in a gentle voice, and Stiles nodded, walking into the dining room. He was unable to resist the urge to look at the assembled pack, his gaze first landing on Scott and Derek, Derek looking as serious as he had the day Stiles had arrived in this timeline, but at the same time listening attentively to Scott. Perhaps more strange was seeing Scott, alive and well, happily chatting away to Derek, as if they’d never had issues in the past. Allison and Lydia had their heads together, and Stiles was willing to bet that they were speculating why Talia had summoned them all here. The curious, analytical look that Lydia gave him as their eyes met told him that, even though Lydia hadn’t recognized him yet, she had figured that he, the stranger, had something to do with it.

 

Stiles let the Sherriff lead him to two empty seats, pushing Stiles into the one next to Talia, before he sat down on Stiles’ other side, with Melissa on his other side. Alan Deaton was sitting on the other side of Talia, and he gave Stiles a reassuring smile as Andrew sidled into the room and sat in the only empty seat, next to Derek. Talia cleared her throat, and a hush fell across the room immediately, everyone in the room recognizing Talia’s authority and quieting, ready to hear what the Alpha had to say.

 

“Thanks for you all coming out here, I know it’s been a long week at school, and you’ve all got plans for the weekend, but something rather urgent has come up. I’ll leave it to Dr. Deaton to explain the theory behind it all,” Talia said, speaking with a confidence and degree of authority that Derek had never got the hand of, and Scott hadn’t had much opportunity to use. Everyone in the room silently redirected thier attention towards the vet, who nodded.

 

“Thank you Talia,” Deaton nodded, “You’ve all been summoned up here because something unexpected has happened, like Talia said. I should explain the theory first though. There are other universes...other timelines some call them, running parallel to ours. There is no way to count how many of these alternate universes there are, but there may be millions, or more, out there. In many circumstances there is little difference between different universes, and it is difficult to detect what the actual difference is. It might be some minor event in local history, such as the old post office building burning down or it could be something rather significant in terms of global history, such as the allied forces loosing World War Two. Many alternate realities have yet to defer from our timeline of events, and hinge on future events and decisions, the vast majority of which will have nothing to do with us. Now, there are ways to cross into alternate universes, although it is highly dangerous, and it can be very unpredictable. As it happens, we have a visitor from another reality...a different timeline, as it is.”

 

Deaton went silent, and Stiles took a moment to look around the room, checking everyone’s facial expressions. Allison, Kira, Boyd and Liam were all looking relatively calm, which was to be expected. None of them would have ever met Stiles in this timeline, having all moved to town after the Hale fire (or in Liam’s case having been in a lower grade at school). Isaac and Erica both didn’t look that fazed either, looking curious, but not as though they’d recognized Stiles. Surprisingly, Jackson, Lydia and Danny all had their eyes narrowed suspiciously at Stiles, and Stiles could tell they were on the verge of figuring it all out, which he hadn’t expected. Other than to make his life miserable Jackson hadn’t acknowledged Stiles’ existence until after Scott started excelling at lacrosse after he got the bite, and Danny and Lydia had tended towards just pretending he didn’t exist.

            

Not all that surprisingly, however, Scott was a lot closer to figuring it out. Stiles could almost see the thoughts flying through Scott’s head as he looked from Talia, to Deaton, to Stiles himself.

 

“Sti...Stiles?” He croaked out finally, his voice thick with emotion, with hope and fear, grief and sadness and thinly veiled desperation. Stiles nodded and smiled at his best friend...his brother in all but blood, but not without noticing how Derek, who up until now had been glaring at him, closed his eyes in pain.

 

“No way,” Jackson exclaimed in shock, “but you died...you died in the fire...here, when we were all just kids.”

 

“Stiles here comes from an alternate timeline where he did not find out about the fire until after the fact. As such, he never went up to the house that night, he was never hit by the falling roof beam, and therefore he never lost his life.”

 

Stiles happened to be looking at Derek as Talia spoke, and he saw the emotions flashing across the werewolf’s face. In this timeline it had been teenaged Derek who had carried dying ten year old Stiles from the burning Hale house, who had helped perform CPR on Stiles while the ambulance was on its way. Of course Derek was struggling, Stiles knew that if their roles had been reversed and it was Derek that had died that day saving Stiles, only to reappear seven years later, as if none of it had happened Stiles would have lost it by now, no doubt about it. As Stiles watched Derek, however, Andrew put his hand on his son’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Derek sucked in a deep breath, and his normal, stoic mask was back up, as if it had never gone.

 

“Oh my God,” Scott whispered in an awed voice, blatantly staring at Stiles, oblivious to the hand that Allison had put on his shoulder.

   

“This change in events has altered many things in Stiles’ timeline, making it vastly different from our own. Through no fault of his own, it is now impossible for Stiles to permanently return to his original timeline, as well as the actual process of creating a means by which he could return to his original reality being nigh impossible. For the moment at least it seems that Stiles will be staying here in Beacon Hills...this version of it, anyway. I thought that, since the majority of you are already familiar with Stiles, and since he will be in your year at school, he would be a good fit in your pack.

 

“He knows about...the truth?” Derek asked his mother.

 

Talia nodded, “Stiles has known about werewolves and the like for just over a year now.” To support her claim, Stiles nodded in agreement, although he couldn’t help but think that it would be difficult to change realities without realising that the supernatural was real, especially given that everyone in this reality thought he was dead. It sounded like something that would drive you insane. Just the thought of that made Stiles shudder, memories of his time at Eichen House and the Nogitsune too fresh and raw for comfort.

 

“But, if...if Stiles never broke the mountain Ash barrier and got all of you guys out the night of the fire, then...” Lydia looked from Talia to Stiles as she spoke, a look of horror crossing his face. Talia didn’t seem inclined to speak, so Stiles answered Lydia’s unspoken question.

 

“In my reality, after the Hale fire there are only four members of the Hale family left alive, plus Malia. Everyone thought Cora was dead until about six months ago, Peter was catatonic with serious burns and in long term care at the hospital, and Laura and Derek left Beacon Hills and went to New York. That was it. Laura...Laura died about a year ago, only a day or so before I found out the truth”

 

A stunned silence met Stiles’ speech as the assembled pack processed the bombshell that he had just dropped. Stiles stayed quiet too, understanding that it was a big bombshell that he had dropped. From what he had heard Scott’s pack were generally close to the Hale pack, and hearing that everyone, Derek’s parents, and brothers, all of his cousins, all of Talia’s siblings and their respective spouses except for Peter had died in the fire, and Laura had died as well in a separate incident. Stiles had deliberately avoided going into detail about Laura’s death. It sounded like Peter was different in this reality, not driven insane by the deaths of his wife and children. Stiles didn’t want to cause any trouble or tension in the pack by revealing that Peter had killed his niece for the power she wielded as Alpha.

 

Eventually Scott got to his feet, walking around the table towards where Stiles was sitting. He hesitated as he passed his mother’s seat, and she gripped his hand tightly. Stiles, however, could read this timeline’s version of Scott just as he could read the Scott of his timeline, and didn’t hesitate, getting out of his chair and standing facing Scott, meeting his eyes. It wasn’t strange, looking at Scott standing in front of him, like Stiles feared it would be after carrying his best friend’s dead body through the woods back to the grave he had dug for him.

 

Instead, it felt like Stiles had come home, like after everything he had gone through, the pain, the numbness, the fear, the anxiety and depression, the guilt, the nightmares and the long, sleepless nights, all went away. Scott was here, his brother, and even though he wasn’t the same Scott that Stiles had been inseparable from since they were four, it didn’t feel like it mattered.

 

Around them, nobody spoke, the room completely silent. Every single person in the room knew, either first hand or from being told, how close Scott and Stiles had been before Stiles’ death, how loosing Stiles had almost destroyed the happy, cheerful child Scott had been. It had taken years for Scott to come to terms with Stiles’ death and how it made him feel, and it had taken him even longer, and lots of sessions with a councillor, for him to learn how to cope with those feelings. No-one, except maybe the Sherriff, had struggled with dealing Stiles’ death more than Scott. Everyone in the room knew that, really, Scott had never gotten over Stiles’ death, despite the lengthy period of time that had passed since the day that his mother had woken him up with tear stained eyes and told him that Stiles wasn’t going to be at school that day, or any day after that.

 

Now, Scott and Stiles stood face to face, they boy who had come from another universe, and the teenaged True Alpha. Melissa and Lydia both had tears running down their cheeks as they watched Stiles and Scott look at one another.

 

It was Scott who moved first, sliding his hand from his mother’s grip and stepping forward, wrapping his arms around Stiles, who returned the gesture, hugging Scott tightly, as if he was frightened to let go. Stiles pressed his head into Scott’s neck, closing his eyes as he fought to control his sobs, fighting back the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. It was only when he felt his own shoulder becoming damp that he realised that Scott was crying too, his face resting on Stiles’ shoulder, his hands resting on Stiles’ back. Stiles took a steadying breath and tilted his neck back, exposing it, an sign of submission that he had witnessed Erica, Boyd and Isaac do to Derek, and then Isaac and on one occasion Liam doing it to Scott. He himself had unconsciously done it to Scott back in his original timeline, not even aware that he was doing it. It had just been a natural gesture, up until the moment that Stiles had been aware that he could hear Scott sniffing him, inhaling his scent.

 

This time, though, Stiles had done it deliberately, and was ready for the sound of Scott sniffing him, getting used to his scent, committing it to memory. It wasn’t just this version of Scott getting his first werewolf level dose of Stiles’ scent though, and Stiles knew it. The way Scott was standing, the way he had his face so close to Stiles’ neck...it was Scott getting his scent on Stiles, effectively marking him as part of Scott’s pack. It was Scott accepting Talia’s decision that Stiles should be part of Scott’s pack, and making it obvious to anyone with werewolf level scenting abilities.

 

Stiles had done his research; he knew what was involved in including a new member to an established pack. It would take a lot more than Scott hugging him and sniffing him over, but it was the first step, and a crucial step to take.

 

It was the first step to belonging to a new pack, and, Stiles found himself thinking, a new pack was just the thing he needed.         


	13. Chapter 12

Once the rest of the pack had left the Hale house, late into the night, Stiles headed up to his room. He brushed his teeth and got into the t-shirt and shorts that Talia had given him to wear as pyjamas. He didn’t lie down and try to go to sleep, though. Stiles knew that he was far too worked up to even attempt sleeping. His mind was working at high speed, trying to process what had occurred that night, and without his adderal to keep him focused, Stiles knew that sleep just wasn’t going to happen. His only hope was waiting until his body was physically exhausted and demanded that he sleep. Luckily for Stiles, given his nightmares and the fact he hadn’t been sleeping well for God knew how long, he figured it wouldn’t be long before his body forced his mind into sleep.

 

At least, Stiles hoped so.

 

It had been a long evening, filled with conversation and memories. Scott had clung to Stiles for what seemed like hours, hugging him tightly, as if Scott through that if he let go of Stiles then he would lose his best friend all over again. It had taken some soft, gentle, reassuring words from Melissa before Scott could be persuaded to let Stiles go, but Stiles hadn’t cared, clinging onto Scott just as much as Scott had been clinging onto him, both of them shamelessly crying, even though they were surrounded by the pack.

 

Once Scott had been persuaded to let go of Stiles, although he never moved far from Stiles’ side, the others had approached Stiles. Erica, Lydia and Danny had all hugged Stiles, and even Jackson had pulled a very surprised Stiles into a awkward half hug. Isaac had cautiously approached Stiles, offering his hand to shake. Stiles had taken it with a friendly smile, and it had been enough to put a smile of Isaac’s face and make the tall teenager hug Stiles, before he moved back to Erica’s side. Boyd however settled for just shaking hands with Stiles, clapping him on the back with enough force to make Stiles stagger.

 

As was his duty as Alpha, Scott introduced Stiles to the members of the pack who hadn’t met the Stiles of this timeline; Allison, Kira, Boyd and Liam. Allison hadn’t approached Stiles, but she’d watched him with wide eyes. Considering that the Stiles in this reality had been killed by Allison’s aunt, and he was the reason that Kate Argent was in prison Stiles thought that Allison’s reaction was to be expected. Kira was polite, shaking his hand, smiling happily at him before she walked back to Isaac, holding his hand and watching as Liam nodded in greeting to Stiles, opting not to say anything, although the trusting look Liam sent Scott before he did anything told Stiles that the Liam of this timeline still looked up to Scott as much as the Liam of his timeline had.

 

It hadn’t been a overly comforting thought, in hindsight, as it had lead to vivid memories of Scott trying to get back into the burning remains of the school building, despite his own serious injuries, when he realised that Liam hadn’t made it out, trying to save the life of his beta, although by then Liam was probably already dead. Stiles hadn’t had the heart...or really the opportunity to look up autopsy results to try and figure out how members of the pack lost the day of the explosion had died, and how long they had lasted in the burning rubble before dying, if their death hadn’t been immediate.

 

Scott’s grief following the explosion had been terrible to witness. Losing a member of the pack was like losing a limb to a wolf, and Scott had lost Liam, Lydia, Danny and Ethan that day, and his grief had been compounded by the fact that he’d lost his mother and Stiles’ dad, as well as Deaton, not long before, and Allison not long before that.

 

In his heart Stiles had known that Scott wouldn’t live much longer after losing so much of his pack. Sure, Derek had survived losing more people in one night at about the same age, but Derek had admitted to Stiles that it would be considerably worse for Scott, since he was the Alpha.

 

Stiles remembered how he’d been dragged from his memories of the last few traumatic days of Scott’s life by a gentle hand on his shoulder. He’d startled and turned his head towards the person whose soft touch had brought him out of his dark memories. He’d expected his dad or Scott, maybe Talia, or Andrew, but instead Melissa stood there, a concerned look on her face. Stiles had blinked, remembering his own grief at losing his father and the closest thing to a mother he’d had since his own mother had died. It had been enough to make his eyes well with tears, and for him to drop his gaze to the floor, not trusting himself to move as Melissa wordlessly pulled him into her arms, one hand cupping the back of Stiles’ head as he rested his cheek on her shoulder, the other hand rubbing his back.

 

‘It’s okay,” Melissa had whispered, “It’s okay, you can let it out if you want to, no-one is going to think any less of you.”

 

“What...what happened to him?” Jackson had asked, his tone enough to convey to Stiles how shocked and shaken up the pack were to see him like this...the ones who had known him as a child anyway,

 

“In Stiles’ reality things are...well, they’re different. Stiles has been through far more than any of us could ever dream of. I have seen his memories, with his consent, and I will not discuss the details of what I have seen, but I will say that Stiles here has become far more accustomed to grief and loss than anyone here.” Talia replied.

 

“What does that mean?” Isaac had asked in confusion.

 

“It means that most of us are dead,” Derek replied, breaking his silence from his corner of the room beside his father. The familiar sound of Derek’s voice made Stiles look up, his eyes filled with tears. Everyone was looking from Derek to him, horror written across their faces. Even Kira, Lydia and Allison seemed to understand how much of a big deal it was to lose a member of the pack, even for a human.

 

“Is...is that true, what Derek said?” Scott asked in a broken voice, taking a tentative step closer to Stiles and Melissa. Stiles chewed his lip, before he nodded.

 

“Yes,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion, “everyone in this room except for me is dead in my original reality. The only other member of your Beacon Hills pack that is still alive, other than me, is Cora, and she’s...she’s better off where she is in South America.”

 

“Oh God,” Erica whispered, her hand covering her mouth. Lydia looked like she was fighting the urge to approach Stiles for another hug. Isaac and Kira were clinging to one another. Derek and Scott had exchanged a significant look, both of them looking pale at the news. Even Jackson, Liam and Boyd looked a little sick at the bombshell. Melissa simply tightened her grip on Stiles, letting his drop his head wearily back on her shoulder. Stiles closed his eyes, blocking out the faces of the pack...his pack, as they realised the true immensity of what he had been through, but he had known the moment his dad touched his shoulder, rubbing it gently.

 

As much as Stiles hated to think it in hindsight, in that moment, with Melissa and the Sheriff comforting him, it had felt like he’d been in a normal family. Stiles had only been nine when his mom had died and he was seventeen now. For almost half his life his mom had been dead and that was discounting the eighteen months before she’d died when her illness had slowly taken her away from him, bit by bit, until there was nothing left of a shadow who couldn’t even remember who he was. Towards the end Stiles had taken to telling her that he was just a volunteer, visiting patients at the hospital as part of a project for school. It had prevented the trauma involved in his mother not even remembering that she had a son, let alone knowing that he was her son. Stiles had never told his dad about it though; it would have destroyed him even more than he was already.

 

Even before his mother had died, Melissa had been there, picking him up from school when Claudia forgot or had an appointment, not saying anything when Stiles would spend the night at her house because both his parents were at the hospital, or his dad had to work, and his mom was too sick to look after him. The summer before his mother died, Stiles had practically spent the entire summer at the McCall’s house.

 

In almost every way Melissa had become his second mother over the years, even if Stiles had never said as much. It was one of the things he regretted, that he had never told Melissa how much he loved her, and how much he appreciated doing the things she did for him, especially after the Nogitsune ordeal.

 

“Dude...what happened? Was it all at once or...or was it spread out?” Scott asked, finally breaking the stunned silence. Stiles turned his head so he could he Scott. It physically hurt to see his friend looking so distraught, and it was made even worse because Stiles knew that kind, sympathetic, Scott was only this upset because Stiles himself was upset.

 

“Other than the fire, it was spread out over about six months, maybe a little more,” he replied, “I’m not sure if it was better that it happened like that, or if everyone went together. Then...then they wouldn’t have had to deal with the grief, the pain of losing pack members, with everything else that kept happening.”

 

“Is...is there a way for you to go back?” Lydia asked, Stiles almost able to see her keen mind at work. Regardless of the timelines, Lydia was still obviously a genius

 

“There is very little chance Stiles will ever be able to go back,” Deaton explained when Stiles didn’t speak up, “The magic involved in bringing him here is very powerful, and there is very little that can undo it.”

 

“I can’t go back, Lyds,” Stiles added, his eyes downcast in defeat, “there’s no-one left. I’d be arrested on site. If time passes there like it does here, which I think it does, they’ll probably have found the Jeep by now...and probably the last few graves as well. I didn’t exactly do a good job of hiding them...I was kind of not thinking straight when I was digging them...and this isn’t a conversation for the dinner table. In summary, I’ll be arrested on suspicion for at least three murders, and I wouldn’t doubt that they’ll try and pin a few more on me as well. I wouldn’t blame them...the evidence isn’t in my favour.”

 

The rest of the room had been completely silent, and Stiles had wondered if he dropped a pin would it be heard. Unfortunately he hadn’t had one in his pocket to test out his theory. Eventually it was Isaac who broke the silence, his voice hushed, as if he didn’t want it to be heard at all  

 

“Graves?” he had croaked out.

 

Stiles had shrugged, “I said everyone was dead, I wasn’t going to leave...leave them out in the preserve, and it was too risky to call the police...sorry dad, but it was fairly obvious that it wasn’t natural causes. I tried to do it the way I read about in my research, with the wolfsbane spiral and everything. I couldn’t leave...leave them there near that stupid tree.”

 

“So you moved the bodies and buried them near where you left the car...” Danny filled in, his eyes wide in horror at the prospect of what Stiles had done. Stiles simply nodded, indicating to the others that Danny’s theory was correct.

 

“Who...who was it?” Jackson asked. Lydia smacked him in the arm, glaring meaningfully at him for being insensitive before she began to verbally chastise him, but Stiles had shrugged. Everyone already knew that they were dead in his original timeline, what was the point of hiding bits.

 

“It was Scott, Kira and Derek.” He said, interrupting Lydia mid sentence. Lydia’s mouth snapped shut, but she didn’t glare at him the way that Stiles anticipated her doing. Instead she bit her lip, looking at him with eyes filled with pity.

 

“Oh, God,” the Sherriff croaked out, tightening his arms around Stiles protectively, embracing him even tighter than he had been. It was then that Andrew Hale had decided that Stiles had been quizzed enough, as he rose to his feet.

 

“Derek, do you want to come and help me finish up dinner, and could some of you guys help set the table and bring the food out?” he asked. Derek, Isaac, Kira and Allison immediately moved to the kitchen. Stiles had been able to hear the muffled sound of Andrew giving instructions to Derek and the teenagers. Talia had caught his eye and given him a gentle smile, and Stiles had given a weak smile in return, although he hadn’t felt much like smiling. The conversation had drained him emotionally, and at that point all Stiles had really wanted to do was curl up in his familiar bed back at home, with his pillow, with the muffled sound of his father’s snoring coming through the walls, and either cry or fall asleep, probably both.  

 

It had amazed Stiles how much things changed when the food he and Talia had prepared throughout the day, as well as what Andrew and Talia had prepared after Stiles had retreated to have his minor freak out, was brought into the dining room. Stiles wasn’t surprised by how much food there was...werewolves had huge appetites after all, but it was the discussion that surprised him. Before dinner he had been the focus of everything, but once the food was there, and the pack settled down, it was almost like he was with his old pack. Stiles had watched as the pack seemed to happily move on from questioning him to chatting and joking around with one another, as if Stiles had always been there. Stiles sat between the Sherriff and Scott, and for the entire meal he had Scott giving him shortened explanations between the numerous inside jokes that got brought up.

 

Seeing his pack (even if it wasn’t actually his pack) happy, relaxed and enjoying themselves, had helped calm Stiles down, relaxing him to the point that he was able to eat a good sized dinner for the first time in he had no idea how long. Sure, it wasn’t as much food as Stiles had eaten before he’d taken his ice bath at Deaton’s, but Stiles had known not to push himself too much too soon, and risk getting sick. That being said, it was still more than Stiles had eaten in a single sitting since before his father had died.

 

Once the plates had been cleared, and all the dishes done by Liam, Erica, Boyd and Scott, the pack moved to the den, where the pack had made themselves comfortable and told Stiles funny stories about what had happened in the last seven years. Some of the stories were familiar, the chain of events happening occurring in the same way in his timeline. It had been strangely enjoyable, though bittersweet, to hear stories about Scott and Jackson and Lydia and Danny in their early teenaged years, and it had brought back some poignant memories that Stiles hadn’t even remembered having.

 

Talia, Andrew, Deaton, Melissa and the Sherriff had all retreated back to the dining room while the rest of the pack was in the den, leaving the teenagers (and Derek) to their story telling, only coming back into the den when it was late and time for everyone not staying at the Hale house to go home. Stiles had been sad to see his friends go, but Scott had hugged him, reassuring him that he would be around the next day so that they could hang out.

 

It had been then that the Sherriff had voiced his suggestion that Stiles move in with him and Melissa. Stiles wasn’t sure who was more excited by the prospect, Scott and Isaac, or the Sherriff and Melissa...or maybe himself.

 

Both Talia and Deaton had agreed with the plan (although Stiles was willing to bet that the suggestion had been at least part of what the five adults had discussed while the rest of the pack was in the den). The rest of the pack had agreed as well. Apparently the Stilinski-McCall household was their preferred location for pack gatherings (when it was just the McCall pack), so the fact that Stiles would be there too was a bonus.

 

Eventually, however, the pack had left. Isaac and Scott had wanted to take Stiles home that very night, but the Sherriff and Melissa had shaken their heads, reminding the pair that the spare bedroom still needed to be cleaned up and aired out. It was, however, agreed that Stiles would move on Sunday...only two more sleeps. The promise had been enough to get Scott and Isaac out of the door without Stiles, and Stiles had watched as the cars had rolled down the driveway.

 

Eventually it had been Derek who was the last one left of Scott’s pack. Stiles felt Derek’s gaze on him, and shifted uncomfortably. Derek had barely spoken the whole night, and Stiles honestly hadn’t been sure on how to deal with this version of Derek.

 

“Were...were we friends?” Derek asked once his parents disappeared into the kitchen to do some last minute cleaning up before going to bed. Stiles hesitated before responding with a careful nod.

 

“Yeah...we were...It took a bit, and I think you kind of wanted to kill me a few times, actually...more than a few, but yeah, in the end, we were friends.”

 

Derek nodded, taking a tentative step towards Stiles, “I’m sorry, for that day in the woods...you had only just woken up after coming here, and I turned you away, when you needed my help.”

 

“Trust me, dude, in the circumstances, I understand. If the roles were reversed I would have done the exact same thing.” Stiles told Derek, who nodded a small, thoughtful, smile on his face, although the way he held his shoulders told Stiles that Derek was relieved to be forgiven. Obviously his guilt over what he said to Stiles had been weighing him down. Considering that it was Derek Hale, Stiles wasn’t in the least bit surprised.

 

“Thank you,” Derek said suddenly, reaching out a large hand and resting it on Stiles’ shoulder, the first time this version of Derek had even touched Stiles.

 

“For what? Forgiving you over what happened in the preserve, because, seriously, dude, it’s cool.”

 

“No...well, not just for that,” Derek bit his lip, “Thank you for being a friend to the other me...and for bringing his body back to a safe place and burying it in the right way. It must have been difficult for you, and ...I know the other me would have appreciated the effort.”

 

Stiles looked at Derek, biting his lip, for one of the first times in his life not quite sure what to say. Impulsively, he’d stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Derek, who had momentarily stiffened in response to the hug, before he’d relaxed and gingerly returned the embrace,

 

“It’s okay, Stiles,” Derek had told Stiles comfortingly, “it’ll get better. You deserve to have a good life after everything you’ve been through. The Stiles of this timeline...he missed out on that...but maybe you can have a happy life, with your friends and family.”

 

Stiles hadn’t said anything in response, letting Derek’s words wash over him, letting Derek pull out of the embrace, walking towards the door, swinging his leather jacket over his shoulders. He’d been about to open the door when Stiles snapped out of his trance.

 

“Hey...Derek,” Stiles had called softly. Derek had turned, looking at Stiles with a certain degree of surprise

 

“You shouldn’t blame yourself...for what happened the day of the fire. It wasn’t your fault, whatever happened...whatever the outcome, it was not, and will never be, your fault. I think the me from this timeline would be in agreement.”

 

Derek said nothing, but he nodded before he walked out into the cold winter’s night, closing the door behind him. Stiles had stood in the entryway until he couldn’t hear the distinct throaty roar of the camaro’s engine before he had retreated back to his room.

 

Thinking back, Stiles reasoned that, generally, it had gone alright, with the exception of his minor breakdown. Realistically it could have gone a lot worse, but it seemed that every member of Scott’s pack had accepted him...even Derek, as far as Stiles could tell. Before everything had gone to hell Stiles had thought he had been reasonably good at reading the other members of the pack, assessing their mood and to a certain extent guessing at their feelings, even without a werewolf’s sense of smell, but after the Nogitsune Stiles hadn’t trusted himself enough to even try, and, even though this version of Scott’s pack physically looked the same, they were technically different people, and Stiles had no idea on their ticks, tells and giveaways that he had used before. He was going to have to start again from scratch.

 

Stiles blinked and let out a wide yawn. Even though he had been made welcome at the Hale’s home the prospect of going to live with Scott, Isaac, the Sherriff and Melissa was an exciting one, and he found himself looking forward to the move. For now though Stiles could tell his mind had slowed down enough to let him get some sleep, so he switched off his bedside light, plunging the room into darkness, before snuggling down in his bed.

‘I wonder if dad kept my pillow?’ Stiles thought to himself before he drifted off to sleep.


	14. Chapter 13

As was normal for him these days, Stiles startled himself awake. It was an improvement from screaming himself awake, but Stiles knew it was an obvious sign that he wasn’t as over everything that had happened as he liked to pretend.

 

Reflecting on his own mental health, however, wasn’t the first thing that crossed Stiles’ mind. Instead, it was the raw, scratchy feeling in his throat, and the pounding of his head, and the deep, icy feeling that he was very familiar with. The coldness that had lasted since the nogitsune had eased a little over the last few days, but now it was back in full force, and Stiles felt like he couldn’t even move. His entire body hurt, and he let out a pitiful moan of pain, turning his head and pressing it into the pillow. It looked like his trek through the rain hadn’t been without consequence.

 

“Stupid human immune system,” Stiles said to himself, before he began to cough, deep hacking coughs that Stiles’ chest feel tight and his throat burn in pain.

 

Stiles didn’t notice the sound of footsteps until the bedroom door burst open, Talia standing in the open doorway for less than a second, taking in the sight of Stiles on the bed, before she swept into the room, crouching down beside him touching his forehead with her hand, before running her fingers through his hair as he coughed into his hand, trying to catch his breath. Once the coughing had got back under control Stiles looked at her with bleary, almost tear filled eyes.

 

“Hey, Stiles...how do you feel?” Talia asked.

 

“Sick...everything hurts,” Stiles croaked out quietly, certain that a human wouldn’t be able to hear his voice. Talia, however, must have been able to hear him, because she gave him a sympathetic smile.

 

“It’s okay, Stiles, you’ll feel better soon. I’ll ask Melissa to come by before her shift starts and check you over; you’re a bit warm, in my opinion.”

 

“Still feel cold though,” Stiles added, a small shiver punctuating the sentence. Talia frowned in concern.

 

“Is it always like that?” she asked.

 

Stiles shrugged, “It comes and goes. The last few days I was okay, but this morning I feel colder than I have in the last week.”

 

“Do...do you want me to ask Deaton about it? In your timeline there wasn’t enough time between the Nogitsune and the necromancer for him to give you much help. Maybe here we can.”

 

Stiles shrugged, his eyes getting heavy. Talia combed her fingers through his hair again, the other hand around his arm, her veins going black as she pulled a little of his pain. Stiles watched the black lines in confusion, weakly trying to pull his arm away from her.

 

“Why are you taking the pain?’ he asked, “It weakens you, you have to stay strong for your pack.”

 

Talia shook her head, “Shhh, Stiles. You are a member of my pack. Scott’s pack is a part of my pack, just as much as my own family is. It is my duty as alpha to ease the suffering of members of my pack, werewolf, human, or other, it doesn’t matter. I have never shied away from that duty, and I’m not going to exclude you. Last night Scott unofficially claimed you as part of his pack, so now, by extension, you’re a part of mine. I’m not going to let you hurt if there is something I can do about it.”

 

Stiles smiled before he let his eyes slide shut and exhaustion claimed him, dragging him into unconsciousness.

 

TW

 

Watching someone you cared about suffer was one of the hardest things to do in life, it was something John Stilinski knew well. Watching as Claudia was destroyed bit by bit by the disease that had robbed her of her memories had been the second hardest thing he’d ever gone through, after losing Stiles in the fire. At least with Claudia he’d had time to prepare himself for what was coming. Stiles’ death had been sudden and entirely unexpected. John had dropped him off at school that morning, watching as the cape of Stiles’ costume flapped as Stiles ran towards his classroom. The next time he’d seen his son Stiles had been in the morgue, pale and lifeless.

 

John was forcibly reminded of how his young son had looked that day as he stood by the newly arrived in this timeline seventeen year old Stiles’ bedside, watching as Scott used a damp cloth to cool Stiles’ fevered skin. Stiles, however, was oblivious to their presence, sound asleep. If it wasn’t for the random twitching of Stiles’ hands, the flickering of his eyes, and the way Stiles’ chest rose and fell with every congested breath he took, John would have worried that Stiles was dead. The pallor of Stiles’ skin didn’t look at all healthy.

 

Both Melissa and Alan Deaton had already visited Stiles that morning, using their knowledge to determine how sick Stiles was. Melissa was reasonably sure that Stiles just had a bad case of the cold, made worse by his exhaustion, the fact that he hadn’t been eating much recently, and the fact that Stiles had admitted to trekking through heavy rain less than a week ago, on the day he was brought to this reality. She had been a little concerned with the fever Stiles had already developed, but in Melissa’s opinion Stiles’ condition didn’t warrant hospital treatment.

 

Deaton had agreed with Melissa’s assessment, although he had promised to look into his research to see if there was something he could do to help Stiles’ body get rid of the chill that had somehow seeped into his bones. John didn’t know what had caused the chill, but he knew enough about reading people to understand from both Talia and Deaton’s faces that they did know, and whatever it was, it hadn’t been good, and John suspected that Deaton had, in fact, already been looking for a cure to the cold feeling Stiles was experiencing.

 

Melissa had given Stiles some over the counter cold medicine before she headed off to work to help lower Stiles’ fever and to lessen the amount of pain Stiles was in, and the drugs, combined with Stiles’ exhaustion, had been enough to send Stiles into a deep sleep. Scott had insisted on staying with Stiles, and since he couldn’t get sick himself, and the fact that it wasn’t a school day and Scott was reasonably up to date with his school work, Melissa and Talia had allowed it.

 

It forcibly reminded John of the days when Scott would be too sick from his Asthma to go outside and play with Stiles, so Stiles would stay inside with Scott and play video games with him, making sure Scott didn’t do anything too strenuous, and looking after him if Scott’s asthma started to act up. Now the roles were reversed, with Scott looking after sick Stiles, and John couldn’t say how it made him feel, seeing Scott so close to Stiles, but yet knowing at the same time that it wasn’t completely the same kid that John had taught to ride his bike without training wheels, although at that point of time there was no difference between the two. It was only from the day of the Hale fire (or just before) onwards that thing between this Stiles and John’s son went differently.

 

A soft noise of a creaking floorboard told John that Talia was nearby, and he looked over his shoulder at the werewolf alpha, knowing full well that she’d only stepped on the floorboard in order to alert him to the fact she was there.

 

“Here,” she said, offering him a cup of coffee, made just how he liked it. John took it with a nod of thanks, before he turned his attention back to the two boys in the room.

 

“It’s horrible, isn’t it, seeing your own child sick, knowing that there isn’t anything you can do to make them feel better, to take away all of the pain and suffering.”

 

It was on the tip of John’s tongue to enquire how Talia knew how he was feeling, when he remembered Talia’s eldest son, Matthew, who was human and only returned to Beacon Hills a couple of times a year for his siblings birthdays and other large pack events.

 

“Did Matthew get sick often?” John asked instead.

 

Talia let out a reflective sigh, “Yes, well, more often than most children his age. In hindsight I should have sent him off to day care and pre school, even just one or two days a week, so that he had more chances when he was very young to be exposed to germs. Being surrounded by werewolves...he didn’t get exposed to normal, human, illnesses until he went to school, and because he had little to no immunity...he pretty much caught every bug around for the first few years of school. By the time he got to about the third or fourth grade his immune system had caught up and he didn’t get sick as much. Still, at least we had the advantage that I could smell illness on him the moment if started, so we could keep on top of things and get him started on medicine before he got too bad. What we went through with Matthew was why Peter and Amanda were sure to send both of the twins to day care and preschool, to give Sophie a chance to build up her immune system before she started school. At least I could take some of the pain, but poor Matthew, he still felt pretty bad when he did get sick.”

 

Not knowing what to say, John nodded, wincing sympathetically when Stiles whimpered in his sleep, mumbling something before he drifted off back into unconsciousness.

 

“I hope he feels better soon,” John finally settled on saying to break the silence. Talia put her hand reassuringly on his shoulder.

 

“We all do, John, the entire pack does too.”

 

 

TW

 

Stiles blinked back into consciousness, curling his fingers into the soft surface he was lying on. It took a few minutes for his sluggish mind to begin to wake up, and when it did he frowned in confusion. Everything was green, the bed he was lying on, the walls, everything. Sitting bolt upright, Stiles whipped his head around, noticing that he was in the preservation again...only this time it looked different, which was nothing special. The preservation in this reality looked different to the preservation in Stiles’ original reality.

 

Deaton had once commented, after the Nogitsune, that the dark energy that the Nemeton was putting out as it drew supernatural creatures to it was having a negative effect on the preservation that surrounded it. The trees were dying, the numbers of fish in the waterways was dwindling, and the wildlife in the preservation were either fleeing or dying. In this reality the preservation was healthy looking, appearing much as it had before Scott, Allison and Stiles had sacrificed themselves for their parents, except it was now obviously the depths of winter.

 

Now, though, the preservation was a bright, lush green. The soft bed Stiles was now sitting on was actually a large patch of thick, soft green grass, the green walls were the trees, the branches covered in leaves, the tree trunks painted green with moss. Looking up, Stiles could see a patch of sky, bright blue without a hint of clouds.

 

Stiles glanced down at himself, taking in the clothes he was wearing, a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, with a red hooded jacket over the top, which wasn’t what he had worn to bed the night after he’d been reunited with the pack.    

 

A sneaking suspicion building in his mind, Stiles looked past his clothes to his hands, counting his fingers under his breath. He closed his eyes and forced himself to be calm, inhaling and exhaling deeply when he counted six fingers on both hands. He was dreaming, none of this was real, but why would he dream something like this?

 

Stiles startled when he heard something rustling in the trees, rising to his feet shakily, ready to face whatever weird thing his mind had conjured up. The trees continued to rustle, the leaves of the bushed in the undergrowth shaking alarmingly in one spot. Stiles tilted his head curiously, staring at that spot, and taking a tentative step towards it. That was all he had the time for when two small creatures tumbled out of the undergrowth and into the clearing. Stiles blinked, staring at the first of the creatures, a small fox kit, it’s fur only just beginning to turn red, the tuft of it’s tail already white as freshly fallen snow as it gave an excited yip, pouncing playfully on it’s companion, a bigger animal that Stiles realised was a wolf cub, it’s long, fluffy fur dark brown in colour.

 

“Well...that’s different,” Stiles observed quietly as he watched the pair as they played, wrestling one another happily. As if they hadn’t realised he was there until he’d spoken, the fox and the wolf stopped what they were doing and looked at him, their tails wagging happily as the trotted over to him. Cautiously, Stiles knelt down, a small smile spreading across his face when the fox and the wolf jumped up, putting their tiny paws on his knees and leaning up so they could lick his hands and arms, trying to reach his face. When it became apparent that just having their feet on his legs wasn’t going to be enough, they started trying to climb up his body.

 

Despite himself and everything he’d gone through in the last year, Stiles laughed, trying to push the pair’s faces away from his own, desperately trying to evade their little pink tongues. The wolf put his front feet on Stiles’ chest and pushed, and Stiles tipped backwards, landing on his back with a gush of air that left him winded. The fox and the wolf seized their chance, covering Stiles’ face and neck with licks, burying their cold noses into Stiles’ skin and making him giggle as their whiskers tickled his face.

 

Completely distracted by the wolf and the fox, Stiles didn’t notice how the trees and undergrowth at one end of the clearing began to rustle, and then appeared to start glowing with a soft white light. It was only when the wolf playfully tugged on his hood that he turned his head, and saw the figure emerging from the tree line, bathed in white light, almost glowing with it. Stiles was immediately reminded of Galadriel or Arwen from the Lord of the Rings movies as the figure moved gracefully towards him.

 

As far as Stiles could tell, the figure was humanoid in shape, although whether or not they were actually human was beside the point. Whoever it was, the wolf and the fox seemed to recognise them, because the moment they spotted the newcomer they raced towards it. The figure crouched, just like Stiles had, patting their heads and rubbing their tummies, before looking up at Stiles.

 

Stiles’ heart leapt into his throat as he took in the face of the figure, recognizing it instantly, although it had been seven years since he’d seen it last in person, outside of photos.

 

“Mom?” he croaked out. The figure...Claudia Stilinski, gave a small smile, her bronze eyes, just like Stiles’, sparkling.

 

“Hello, Stiles,” she greeted, the memory of the sound of his mother’s voice came flooding back to Stiles, and he scrambled back to his feet so he could approach her. Claudia too rose to her feet, far more gracefully than Stiles, and the wolf and the fox, looked between the two of them, before they disappeared back into the undergrowth. Stiles, however, didn’t even notice their absence, too transfixed by the appearance of his mother, her hair long and flowing, the way her skin seemed to glow, how she was surrounded all over her body with a halo of light.

 

Just before he got within touching range of his mother, Stiles hesitated, licking his lips nervously.

 

“This isn’t some trick of the nogitsune’s, is it? I’m not going to touch you and then get possessed again, or something. This isn’t some new kind of torture, is it?”

 

Claudia frowned, “No, Stiles, this dream is not the work of the nogitsune, it’s gone, you’re safe.”  


Stiles sobbed, and then there were warm arms around him, gentle hands rubbing his pack, soft lips pressed to his forehead, the familiar scent, but without the taint that was the scent of hospital grade cleaner and disinfectant that Stiles had associated with it for years.

 

“Mom,” he croaked out, his voice cracking with emotions, tears rolling down his face, this throat tightening up with grief.

 

“I’m here, Stiles, it’s okay,” Claudia Stilinski soothed, rubbing Stiles’ back gently, just like Stiles remembered her doing when he was upset when he was younger.

 

“Am...am I dead? Is that why I can see you?”

 

Claudia hesitated before responding, leaning back a bit so she could take in Stiles’ face, the thumb of one hand rubbing his shoulder gently, while the other hair tousled his hair gently.

 

“No...You’re not dead. It isn’t your time, not yet, my sweet baby boy.”

 

“But everyone else died...how isn’t it my turn?” Stiles asked. Claudia leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

 

“You’re so brave, Stiles. I’m very proud of you, of everything you’ve done.”

 

“But I was supposed to look after dad, and he ended up dying because of me.”

 

“Stiles, none of what happened was your fault. Allison, Aidan, Scott, Derek...your father; none of their deaths were you fault, you shouldn’t blame yourself. The version of your father from your original timeline didn’t blame you, not even the smallest bit. You could never have known what was going to happen, and there wasn’t anything anyone could have done to change the outcome of what happened there.”

 

“Is my being here going to get this pack dead as well?” Stiles asked. Claudia sighed.

 

“I honestly don’t know, Stiles, and even if it did, i wouldn’t be able to tell you. There are rules about this kind of thing you know.”

 

“Are you an Angel?” Stiles asked curiously, looking over his mother’s shoulder to see if she had wings. Claudia laughed, the sound brining back memories of happy afternoons spent in the park, of movie nights that lasted for hours, the happiest days of Stiles’ childhood, before doctor’s appointments and hospitals and his mother’s failing memories robbed him of them, and eventually of his mother herself.

 

“No, but I do watch over you, Stiles, you and your father, and I miss you every day and I wish I could have been there to sooth your hurts and ease your pain. I will never leave you, Stiles, remember that. I will always be there for you, even if you can’t see me.

 

“I miss you too, mom,” Stiles sighed, leaning against his mother, resting his head on her shoulder, his fingers curling around her hair, just like he used to do when he was little.

 

Stiles closed his eyes , revelling in the feeling of being embraced by his mother. It had taken him awhile to recognize his feelings, since it had been so long since he’d really felt them. Here, with his mother, he was safe, and warm, and happy.

 

“I wish I could stay here with you.” Stiles sighed.

 

“No, Stiles...you don’t. Remember, you’ve got Scott and his pack and Derek, and your father and the Hale family and Melissa. You’re not alone anymore. You can’t stop living your life because it’s been rough for a while now, you’re too strong for that, and haven’t you been happier since you arrived in this reality?”

 

Stiles nodded, knowing that it wouldn’t be fair, especially to his father and Scott, to give up now when they’d only just got him back after seven years.

    

“I guess...I have a question though.”

 

“Of course you do, Stiles,” Claudia laughed, and Stiles blushed as he remembered when he’d been younger and had spent hours upon hours asking his parents questions, some of them very complicated.

 

“What was with the fox and the wolf? I mean, it’s still January, it’s too warm here for us to be actually in the woods, and i have extra fingers, so I know I’m dreaming. The last thing I remember was falling asleep at the Hale’s house, and I can’t picture them letting me wander off, especially because I’m sick. This is all happening in my head, isn’t it? Some kind of out of body experience, maybe?”

 

“Well, technically that was two questions, but I’ll answer both. Yes, this is all happening in your head. Physically you are still at the Hale’s house, although I’m quite sure that if you get much sicker your father is going to take you to hospital, he’s already raised the subject twice with Talia. As for the fox and the wolf...I can only venture a guess...This is after all, your party. The image of the fox and the wolf, playing together, could be some sort of representation of you and Scott reconciling after both of you being faced with the death of the other, because in your mind it still views itself as a fox, even though the nogitsune is gone. It could also be a representation of Scott and Kira, although that would be a less likely scenario. In both cases, Scott could also be substituted for Derek, but I find it less likely, despite how you feel about Derek. If you imagined a wolf Derek I doubt it would be a pup. Scott, on the other hand, has always looked a bit like a puppy...but then, I am only speculating.”

 

Stiles’ eyes narrowed slightly as his mother’s words, “So...in my head, I’m still the nogitsune?”

 

“Does it really surprise you? You still blame yourself for what the Nogitsune did,” Claudia pointed out. Stiles had to concede she did have a valid point.

 

“It is gone, though, right. I’m...me again, I’m not going to start causing all kinds of hell in this reality to, am I?”

 

Claudia laughed, ruffling Stiles’ hair, “The Nogitsune is gone, Stiles, it has been since that night at the school. As long as the Nemeton remains inactive the Nogitsune cannot cause any damage in this reality. You however...well, you’ve always been a bit of a trouble magnet.”

 

“Mom,” Stiles protested , and Claudia laughed, ruffling Stiles’ hair gently.

 

“I’m teasing, Stiles, although there is a certain element of truth to what i said. You always have been a trouble magnet. I often worried that one day your curiosity would get you into trouble...that you would get hurt, or worse, because of it. I could never imagine what you would be thrown into though...even with my vivid imagination.”

 

Stiles smiled, “you used to tell the best stories,” he recalled fondly.

 

Claudia leaned forward, kissing Stiles on the forehead, her hand clasping the back of his neck gently.

 

“I love you, Stiles, I always have, and I always will. I’m so proud of you, my precious baby boy. You’ve gone through things that people four times your own age couldn’t imagine going through, and you’re still so strong, you kept going despite everything that happened.”

 

“Mom...you’re going, aren’t you? Mom? Mom!” Stiles exclaimed, panic seeping into his voice, reaching out to grab onto his mother, “mom, don’t go, mom, please don’t go, don’t leave me alone.” Stiles cried out, dampness on his cheeks telling him that he was crying.

 

Claudia simply smiled sadly, “It’s time for me to go, Stiles...It’ll be alright. You are surrounded by people who love you; you’ll be looked after here. You won’t be alone, and even if your family...your pack, isn’t there...I always will be.”

 

“Mom” Stiles sobbed, his gaze misting over with tears. He blinked, his arm dropping to his side, weariness washing over him. Suddenly, he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

 

“It’ll be alright, Stiles,” Claudia soothed, “I’m here, it’s okay, just go to sleep.”

 

“Mom,” Stiles whimpered again, blinking up at his mother, who took another step backwards, away from him.

 

“Goodbye, Stiles, I love you.”

 

“Goodbye mom,” Stiles whispered in reply, his head dropping down onto the soft forest floor, unable to stay up any longer.

 

Unconsciousness claimed him immediately.


	15. Chapter 14

Derek crossed his arms over his chest as he stood in the doorway of the guest bedroom the boy had been put in, watching as Scott sat at the boy’s bedside.

 

The boy on the bed was motionless, except for the rise and fall of his chest, and the occasional twitch of his fingers. Derek remembered vividly how the boy had looked a few days earlier, in the woods, mere hours after he’d unknowingly done the impossible and transported himself into another reality. The boy had reeked of grief, anxiety, confusion, and guilt when they had encountered one another in the woods, and once Derek had left the kid behind, Derek had felt a little remorseful for how he had treated the boy.

 

It had been obvious to Derek that the kid had been confused and lost, and had been through something traumatic, but the moment the kid had mentioned Stiles’ Stilinski’s name, Derek’s mind had been flooded of his memories of the small boy who had saved his family, undoing the damage that Derek had done when he’d gotten involved with Kate. No matter how many times he had been told that the death of Stiles’ Stilinski wasn’t his fault, Derek still blamed himself for it. He was the one that fell for Kate Argent’s seduction; he was the one that gave away his family’s secrets, leaving the door wide open for Kate to kill them all. He may as well have lit the house on fire himself. It had been why he’d snapped at the teenager, despite knowing how much Scott would disapprove of the act. Scott was the most compassionate person Derek had ever met. Scott believed that people could be redeemable, that deep down, people were inherently good. Within his pack, Scott encouraged them all to be compassionate, and to give people a second chance.

 

Derek had no idea how Scott had maintained that thought process throughout everything that he’d been through, from his father leaving, to his best friend dying, to being made into a supernatural creature that shouldn’t even exist outside of fairytales and horror stories, and everything that had happened since then, but he still believed that most people deserved a second chance to prove themselves to be a good person.

 

Blinking, Derek tilted his head, letting it rest on the doorframe as he watched his Alpha...or at least, one of his Alphas, tending to the unconscious teenager, a look of concern flashing across his face when the kid stirred with a soft whine.

 

“Mom?” the teenager whimpered, before he went back to being still. Where he sat, Scott hushed the unconscious teen soothingly, wiping a damp cloth over his face. It wasn’t the first time the boy had called for his mother in his delirious state, and each time he said it Derek cringed inwardly, sympathy building within him for the motherless boy. Derek knew what had happened to Stiles’ mom...his own mother had gone to Mrs. Stilinski’s funeral, but he hadn’t expected the teenaged version of her son from another reality to actually call for his mother in his fevered state. Deaton had explained that up until the fire there had been no difference between Stiles’ reality and their own, so going by that theory both versions of Stiles had gone through the same experience of losing their mother at a young age.

 

Maybe the fact that the teenager was calling for his long dead mother was an indication that he was sicker than they thought. Despite the fact that, according to his mother, Deaton, and Melissa, the boy’s body temperature had been low since he’d arrived in this reality, he now had a raging fever the refused to break, which had left the teenager weak and delirious, spending most of his time unconscious.

 

The prospect of taking the kid to hospital, although it had earlier seemed impractical due to the absence of any identity documents, was looking more and more unavoidable the longer the boy was sick.

 

“Is he going to die, Derek?” Scott’s voice broke through Derek’s turbulent thoughts, and Derek straightened his neck slightly, watching as Scott looked back over his shoulder towards him. Derek was struck by how young Scott looked, the seventeen year old’s eyes wide and fearful at the very thought of going through the pain of losing Stiles all over again. It had only been just over a day since Stiles and Scott had been reunited, and Scott had let himself get attached straight way, recognizing the boy as the same person as the best friend he lost in the fire, something that Derek hadn’t quite allowed himself to believe just yet. In his mind Stiles Stilinski, and the boy who lay before him, continued to be separate people, although at the same time, he knew that every word that had been spoken the previous night had been the truth.

 

“I don’t know,” Derek admitted to Scott, remembering the question his alpha had asked, hearing the sound of cars coming up the driveway as he spoke. He counted two vehicles, the familiar sound of Melissa McCall’s SUV, and Alan Deaton’s car as well.

 

“It shouldn’t be like this. Last night everything was good. Stiles was here, I had my best friend back from the dead, everyone was okay, no-one is trying to kill us...and now Stiles is dying, and I don’t know if I can go through the pain of losing him again. It’s not freaking fair!”

 

Derek entered the room, gripping Scott’s arm firmly and pulling him up, before he wrapped his arms supportively around his Alpha.

 

“Hey...he’s a fighter, you hear me...he’s not going to let go, not yet. Just think, he’s just got all of us back from the dead as well. He’s not going to want to go anywhere,” Derek told Scott reassuringly, but at the same time, sternly. It was exactly what Scott needed, his heart beat settling down, and his breathing becoming calm once again. Derek hated that Scott was the one who always had to be calm, to be the one in charge. Seventeen was too young, really, to be an Alpha with a generally speaking very young pack of recently turned werewolves. In a perfect world Scott should only have to worry about school, girls, and lacrosse, not about keeping a strange group of teenaged werewolves and other supernatural creatures in line.

 

Derek held Scott close, letting the Alpha get over his outburst, as he listened as Deaton and Melissa parked out the front of the house and were invited inside. Scott and Talia had persuaded the rest of Scott’s pack to go home, and the Sherriff had been called into work, so the house was emptier than what it had been all day, only Derek’s parents, Scott, the boy, and now Melissa and Deaton within.

 

Forcing himself to focus on Scott, instead on listening to what was going on downstairs, Derek closed his eyes, breathing in Scott’s scent. Over the last year Scott had become almost like another little brother, and Derek had, privately, relished his role as Scott’s mentor, protector, and friend. With his own younger siblings all grown up (or almost grown up) and his college education completed, Derek had been left with no idea of what to do with his life. Scott and his pack had given him a direction in life, a reason to get up every morning, a purpose, filling his life with noise, happiness and acceptance. It was Scott and his pack that had finally, after six years of wallowing in his own guilt and blaming himself for what happened with Kate, helped Derek begin to move on. Derek still felt guilty about what happened, still blamed himself, to a certain extent, but he’d finally begun to come to terms with the fact that Stiles’ death was caused by Kate Argent’s actions, not just his own.

 

Absorbed in his own thoughts and inhaling Scott’s familiar, oddly settling, scent, Derek didn’t notice the sound of footsteps approaching them until they were at the top of the stairs. He lifted his head, stepping away from Scott, who noticed the footsteps at the same time as Derek. Scott dropped back into his chair at the kid’s bedside, going back to wiping the boy’s face with a damp cloth, while Derek stayed where he was, watching over both of the teenagers, looking up only when Melissa, Talia and Deaton walked through the door.

 

“How is he?” Melissa asked, but Derek could only shrug, not knowing what sort of information would be helpful. Luckily, however, Scott was ready for the question.

 

“He was calling for his mom before, but I think he’s settled down now” Scott replied, glancing briefly up at his mother, before retuning his attention to Stiles. Melissa nodded and walked to the bedside table, and picking up the ear thermometer, before she placed it in the sleeping teenager’s ear until the device gave a soft beep. The room was quiet as Melissa checked the readout, before she glanced at the piece of paper that they had been recording Stiles’ temperature on.

 

“He’s back down to 99 degrees, it looks like e is recovering from that last spike.” Melissa noted. Derek nodded, remembering the worrying few hours earlier on, when the kid’s fever had suddenly spiked up to 103.8 degrees. If it had reached 104 it was decided that, regardless of the potential consequences, the sick teen would be taken to hospital.

 

Scott visibly relaxed at the news, his shoulders loosing the tenseness they had carried for the last few hours, and Derek saw the smile on his mother’s face.

 

“He doesn’t smell as sick as he did before,” Talia offered in agreement, and Derek sniffed, noticing that she was right. The boy in front of him didn’t smell as ill as he had earlier, when Derek ad been able to detect the slight hint of death in the boy’s scent, as if he’d been slowly slipping away in front of them..

 

“That’s good news,” Deaton smiled, “I might hold off on giving him this until after he’s conscious though,” Deaton wriggled the vial he was holding in his hand. Scott and Derek looked at it curiously.

 

“What’s that?” Scott asked his mentor.

 

“A mixture I prepared using what little was left of the herbs that brought Stiles back here. It should be enough to heal him from the coldness that has...clung to him since he got here.”

 

“I don’t think he’s feeling it now,” Scott pointed out innocently, “with the fever and everything.” Derek allowed a small smile to cross his face.

 

Talia chuckled, “I don’t think he is...but when he recovers from his cold he it will return, and I don’t want him to have to keep suffering from it.”

 

“Do you know what caused it?” Derek asked. Talia sighed, shooting a sideways glance at Deaton, before she nodded.

 

“Yes, I know what caused it. A few months ago, in his timeline, Stiles was possessed by a dark spirit...a Nogitsune. Eventually it was destroyed, but the possession left a sort of taint on Stiles. He can’t be controlled again by the Nogitsune, its dead, or at least in his reality it was, but it has left its mark on his heart and his mind.”

 

“This dark taint is what has been causing Stiles to feel cold. From what Talia has told me it also is felt physically by Stiles in the form of constant low level pain, although the degree to which Stiles feels the pain, as well as the cold, appears to fluctuate. This taint could also be having an influence on Stiles’ mental health, and he doesn’t need that happening, not when he is already struggling to deal with what he’s been through recently.”

 

“You said could...you don’t know for sure?” Derek asked.

 

“Well, no, I don’t,” Deaton admitted, “Nobody does. I’ve done my research, since I was told that Stiles had been possessed by a nogitsune. I have found some accounts written about others who have been possessed by a nogitsune, but...but none of them survived more than a week after the Nogitsune took hold, and none of them lived to see the Nogitsune destroyed. Stiles may well be the first person to ever survive a nogitsune possession.”

 

Derek felt his mouth go dry as he looked at the scrawny, lanky looking teenager lying on the bed. Thin and without much muscle, he didn’t look very strong, but Deaton’s words made Derek rethink his assumptions about the teenager. Derek knew that surviving any sort of possession took a lot of strength, both physical and mental...and to potentially be the first one to ever survive a nogitsune possession...there was obviously more to the boy that met the eye.

 

Beside Derek, Scott and Melissa were both looking at the unconscious teenager in awe and in respect. Scott was gripping his hand tightly, and Melissa was running her fingers soothingly though his hair.

 

“But...but you can get rid of it, right?” Scott asked hopefully.

 

Deaton nodded, “I think so, yes. I’m not making promises, but I’m fairly optimistic about this working,” Deaton shook the vial carefully again as he spoke. Scott nodded in acceptance of his employer’s response, obviously understanding, just like Derek did, that there was no way that they could be certain that the contents of the vial would work.

 

“Alan...come and have a cup of coffee while we wait for Stiles to wake up. Once the Sherriff gets off duty again he’ll come up here and then you can talk through your plan with him.” Talia offered, leading Deaton out of the room. Derek turned to leave as well, planning on leaving Scott and his mom to sit with Stiles, but then he heard a soft whimper coming from the bed, and he turned around. Stiles’ eyes were open, unfocused and bleary from fever and exhaustion, but they were open.

 

He was awake.

 

TW

 

“So...this will stop him from being so cold, and being in pain?” Sherriff Stilinski asked for clarification.

 

“As long as it is caused by the taint left by the nogitsune, then yes, hopefully this will work” Deaton nodded in reply, pouring the contents of the vial into a drinking glass. Stiles eyed the mixture nervously.

 

“Why didn’t the Deaton in Stiles’ reality think of this...he obviously had access to the stuff?” Scott asked

 

“He didn’t have a chance. There wasn’t much time between us defeating the...yeah...him, and the next thing to come into town with the purpose of screwing everything up.” Stiles replied, his throat closing up slightly as the prospect of saying the word Nogitsune.

 

Around Stiles’ bed, Melissa, Scott, Talia, the Sherriff and Deaton stood, having explained to Stiles and the Sherriff the potential cure that Deaton had devised using the same herbs that had transported Stiles to this reality. The Sherriff had been dubious at first, but he was so concerned about Stiles’ wellbeing, especially after he was told of the potential risk to Stiles’ mental health that the taint posed, that he was willing to give anything a shot. Stiles too trusted Deaton enough to go along with the plan.

 

Now that his fever was easing off, Stiles could feel the biting cold returning to his extremities, the usual pain accompanying it. It wasn’t too bad, yet, and it had never gotten as bad as it had been in the immediate aftermath of Stiles separating himself from the Nogitsune, but it was still uncomfortable.

 

In the back of Stiles’ mind, a dark though flickered to life. Sure, being without the pain and the cold would be nice...but did he deserve to live his life without it when he was responsible for the deaths of Allison and Aidan. In his original reality, if Allison and Aidan had survived then maybe the necromancer would have been defeated earlier, before the school bombing that had killed Lydia, Danny, Liam, and so many others.  

 

Focusing on his hands, Stiles avoided looking at any of the others in the room as his head was flooded with memories of the things he’d done wrong ever since Scott had become a werewolf. He knew that he didn’t deserve having the possibility of the chill in his bones and the constant ache throughout his body left behind by the nogitsune. Really he didn’t deserve having everyone that he had lost except for his mom back from the dead, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that. From what he’d experienced so far, it looked like no one would be willing to let him go back to his original timeline, even if he wanted to.

 

“Hey buddy, you okay?” Stiles felt a weathered hand on his shoulder, immediately recognizing the grip of the Sherriff. He hesitated before he responded, thinking through what he was going to say. Looking up at the Sherriff, Stiles remembered the look of pain on his father’s face throughout the whole Nogitsune ordeal, how worried he would be, the fear when they suspected that Stiles might have the same condition as his mother.

 

After putting his own father through that, how could Stiles ever have a pain free existence? It just wasn’t right.

 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t want it. I don’t need it.”

 

“What?” The Sherriff asked in confusion.

 

“The cure or whatever it is...I don’t want it.”

 

“Stiles...it would take away the pain, the coldness,” Deaton explained, even though he had already. Stiles shook his head, looking up at the others, blinking as a tear rolled down his face.

 

“I know that, but I don’t want it.”

 

“Why?” Scott asked as a couple more tears fell from Stiles’ eyes.

 

Stiles ducked his head again, hating that he was crying again, “because I don’t deserve it,” He told them in a thick voice, “I let him in, I was the one who caused all of that trouble, I was weak, I stabbed Scott, I’m the reason for Allison and Aidan dying. If I hadn’t been so weak then the Necromancer might not have come, or we might have stopped it before Dad and Melissa died, or the school got blown up. It is all my fault, and I can’t let you take away the pain...not when I deserve it. I can’t let myself forget what I did to them, that I’m the reason they’re all dead, and yet I’m alive.” he sobbed, words flying from his mouth.

 

Lowering his head, Stiles inhaled, trying to ease his breathing, which had become haggard at some point during his outburst, avoiding the gaze of everyone in the room, even though Stiles instinctively knew they were all looking at him. He hadn’t ever meant to say that much, but once he’d started speaking he hadn’t been able to stop. Now they would all know the truth about why he didn’t deserve to have the pain taken away, because he was a murderer who had killed every single person that he had ever cared about, because he was weak.

 

“Stiles, that’s not true,” Melissa said in a soft voice, breaking the stunned silence in the room, her hand finding and gripping Stiles’ shoulder gently, “what happened to the rest of the pack was never your fault. I’m sure none of them ever blamed you for what happened.”

 

“Mom’s right,” Scott nodded, “it wasn’t your fault.”

 

“I have seen your memories Stiles,” Talia reminded him, “and none of what happened was your fault. There was nothing you could have done to prevent any of the deaths that happened in your reality.

 

“Because I’m just the useless human that started everything in the first place,” Stiles replied, his voice steady, despite the emotions rushing through his brain, “If I hadn’t dragged Scott out into the woods that night none of this would have ever happened. You’re right, I wasn’t strong enough to save my friends, but that doesn’t mean I’m not the one who was responsible for them all dying. If the world was a better place...if everything was fair, I would have died instead of them.”      

 

Derek scowled at the boy’s words, anger erupting within him. He was over how the kid was being coddled by the rest of the pack, how they treated him like he would break. It was fairly obvious that he was already broken, and it was also apparent to Derek that being soft with the kid wasn’t getting the teenager to start putting himself back together again. Yes, he’d been through hell, but Derek knew from personal experience that wallowing in self loathing and pity like the kid was doing wasn’t helpful, either to yourself, or to those around you.

“Stiles,” Derek snapped, forcing himself to say the name, although it left a strange feeling in his head, to be addressing the teenager by the same name as the boy that had saved Derek’s family, finally reconciling the fact that the two were one and the same, although changed by circumstance.

 

“You don’t want to take the cure because you don’t think you deserve it...but what about us? Imagine how it’s going to make us feel knowing that you’re letting yourself suffer. How much it’s going to hurt the Sherriff and Melissa, and Scott and the rest of the pack, knowing that you’re going through this...that you won’t let us help you. It makes us feel like you don’t want to be here, like you want to be back in your original timeline, to be alone, that none of us are good enough...that none of us mean enough to you that you want to get better...to start living again. You have a second chance here, Stiles, but you’re wasting it...you’re wasting the second chance that everyone else in you pack missed out on. Do you really think that they’d want you to let yourself suffer like this?”

 

“Derek!” Talia scolded, her eyes flashing red as she swatted at the back of Derek’s head in response to the abrasive tone of use Derek had used as he berated Stiles, while the others stood in a shocked silence.

 

Stiles swallowed, is eyes wide, not blinking at all, Derek’s words sinking into his head, memories flashing back to the night of the lacrosse final, his own words floating back to him.

 

“Death doesn’t happen to you...it happens to everyone around you...the ones left standing at your funeral trying to figure out how they’re going to live the rest of their lives now without you in it.” Stiles murmured in a soft voice so quiet only the werewolves in the room could hear.

 

“Stiles?’ Scott asked in a tentative voice, trying to draw the smaller teenager out of his thoughts. Derek took a careful step forward, closer to the boy on the bed. As if he was coming out of some sort of trance, Stiles blinked, tears building in the corners of his eyes, as he looked up at Derek, who was now standing right beside his bed.

 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles croaked out, bursting into tears, throwing himself towards Derek. Derek’s eyes widened as Stiles latched onto him, thin arms tight around his chest, Stiles’ head buried into Derek’s chest over his heart. Derek only hesitated for a moment before he gently put his arms around Stiles, rubbing the teenager’s back.

 

“I’m sorry I’m sorry,” Stiles repeated in between sobs as his shoulders shook with the force of his crying. Derek shot a look at his mother, who only gave him a nod of encouragement in reply.

 

“It’s okay, Stiles,” Derek offered gently, “I’m sorry if I was too hard on you, but none of us like seeing you hurt like this.”

 

Stiles sniffed and looked tearfully up at Derek, “I know, I’m sorry,” he apologised, “You’re right. The others...My dad, Scott and Lydia and the rest of the pack...they would have told me the exact same thing. Then they would probably have held me down and forced me to do it.”

 

“So...you’ll take the cure?” Melissa asked hopefully. Stiles sighed and nodded, dropping his gaze and resting his forehead back against Derek’s chest. Deaton nodded, beginning to prepare the vial. Stiles tensed when he saw the needle that the cure was being loaded into.

 

“Really...a needle? I hate needles.”

 

“You’ll be okay Stiles, the Sherriff soothed gently, having moved beside Derek so he could rub Stiles back, “Just focus on me and Derek, okay.”

 

Stiles smiled weakly, recognising the tactic that his mother, and then his father, had used whenever he’d had to have a needle as a child. He barely noticed Deaton hand the prepared needle over to Melissa, who swabbed the skin of his arm with a antiseptic wipe, before she pushed the needle into his skin. Stiles tensed and whimpered in Derek’s arms, screwing his eyes shut, trying to focus on the soft sound of the Sherriff’s voice.

 

“There, all done,” Melissa announced, withdrawing the needle form Stiles’ arm, a cotton bud on hand to press to the needle sight to prevent any bleeding.

 

“Oh my God I hate needles,” Stiles scowled, glaring at the needle in question, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted, Derek’s arms around him the only thing that prevented him from falling to the floor.

 

“Well,” The Sherriff said lightly, “at least now we don’t have any doubts about it being Stiles or not, it’s definitely him.”


	16. Chapter 15

Stiles was silent in the passenger seat of the police cruiser as it passed through the streets of Beacon Hills, watching the scenery as they moved past. It was all so similar, just like he remembered, but Stiles still took note of places where things had happened. The school, obviously, the block that Derek’s loft was in, the animal clinic, Heather’s house, the hospital, the mechanic’s shop where his beloved Jeep, Roscoe, had been used as a murder weapon and Stiles had first encountered the Kanima.

 

Most of them Stiles had been past when he’d first arrived in this version of Beacon Hills, or on the day he went to the school and then to his mother’s grave, but it was still eerie to think of the things that he remembered happening there, knowing that, in this reality, the events never happened at all, or at least happened in a different way.

 

It was only when the Sherriff turned down a different street that Stiles remembered that the man who was kind of his dad didn’t live in the same house Stiles had grown up in anymore. He blinked, missing his old home, but at the same time curious about the house that the sheriff, Melissa, Scott and Isaac all lived in. It would be his new home too…assuming nothing went wrong.

 

It had been two days since he’d let Deaton inject the vial into him. It had taken a little while to begin to work, but Stiles would admit that it was working. He didn’t feel cold all of the time, although Melissa said that the fact he was so underweight would mean he would feel the cold more than others, at least until he put on more weight. Perhaps more noticeably, was that Stiles’ felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He was sleeping better, although he still had nightmares. Melissa had said that all the signs indicated that he had PTSD, although she had admitted that she wasn’t qualified to make that sort of diagnosis.

 

Since Talia knew everything he had been through, she had offered to serve as Stiles’ councilor in order to help him cope, as she had the necessary qualifications to act in that position, and had in fact served as the Guidance councilor at Beacon Hills high school when her own children had been younger.    

 

Stiles had recovered enough from his bout of the flu enough that Talia, Melissa and the Sherriff had all agreed that Stiles was well enough to be moved to his new home, only a couple of days behind the original schedule. Now he paid attention to the houses they had passed, recognizing the area that the others had described where exactly the new house was, and from his original memories when he would go for drives in the jeep with no set destination in mind.

 

“Here we go,” The Sherriff said finally, pulling the police cruiser into the driveway of a house. Stiles glanced at Melissa’s SUV in the driveway, although Scott’s motorbike was absent (he still had it, Stiles had seen Scott ride it up to the Hale’s house the previous day), but a glance at the clock in the cruiser told Stiles that Scott and Isaac were both still at school.

 

Stiles blinked, realizing with a start that the Sherriff had already gotten out of the car and was patiently waiting for him beside the front steps. Stiles pushed the car door open, removing his seatbelt and grabbing his bag out of the foot well, before he climbed out of the cruiser, looking around curiously.

 

The house was two story, with a porch running the full length of the front of the house. There was a swing seat up one end, one that Stiles could imagine both the Sherriff and Melissa, or Scott and Allison, using to cuddle up on and watch the world go by. The walls were white and the garden neat and tidy. Stiles smiled to himself, despite the fact that he wouldn’t have any memories of his mother at this house. On the outside it was exactly how Stiles imagined a house that his dad and Scott’s mom living in if they ever got together.

 

“You okay, buddy?” The Sherriff asked, concern seeping into his voice. Stiles nodded wordlessly, slinging his bag up onto his shoulder as the Sherriff led him up the steps leading up to the front porch. He pulled a keying out of his pocket and passed it over to Stiles, who took it with wide, surprised eyes.

 

“Melissa got a new set of keys made for you…she wanted you to feel welcome, so that you know, despite everything, that this is your home to.”

 

Stiles felt tears building in his eyes, remembering Melissa’s reaction to him having a set of keys made for her home in his original timeline. Now she had arranged for a key to her home to be made especially for him.

 

“Stiles…it’s okay.” The Sherriff said, stepping forward, rubbing his back gently, “it’s okay…I don’t know what has upset you, but it’s okay.

 

“I’m not upset,” Stiles protested, “I’m…I’m happy. Melissa…she didn’t like me having a key to their old house.”

 

“Well…this is your house too, and it would be weird it you didn’t have a key for it, wouldn’t it. Why don’t you try it out and make sure it works?”

 

Giving the Sherriff a small smile, Stiles stepped closer to the door and slid the key the Sherriff had pointed out into the lock, turning it until he heard the lock click, before he tentatively turned the handle, pushing the door open.

 

Stiles stepped over the threshold into the house that was now the home of Scott, Melissa, Isaac, and the Sherriff, and was immediately reminded of Melissa’s home back in his original reality…and of his own home as well. Even as he stood at the front door, he could pick out things that had come from his home, or from Melissa’s. The framed artwork that had been in the entry of the McCall family home was up on the wall, as well as lots of framed photographs, like the walls at the Hale’s house. He swallowed guiltily as re recognized a lot of the photos, although most of them had never been put on display, instead kept in photo albums. Stiles stepped further into the house in order to get a closer look, oblivious to the Sherriff following him, giving the back of Stiles’ head a very concerned look

 

There were the familiar photos of Claudia that had been up around Stiles’ home in the past, memories of a time before she got sick, but alongside them were a lot of photos of Stiles himself as a child. Stiles’ eyes were drawn to one photo in particular; one that he knew had been taken on the same day young Stiles had died. His younger self had a smile on his face, but it never reached his eyes, which still looked sad after losing his mother. The rest of the photos were older, from happier times, before grief had made this realities version of Stiles a shadow of his former self. There were numerous photos of Scott and Stiles, together, and Stiles’ lips quirked as he looked at one were young Scott was sprawled on his back, asleep, in Stiles’ bean bag, with young Stiles fast asleep on top of him.

 

“You two were inseparable when you were kids.”

 

“We still were,” Stiles added, his voice choking up a little, as he spotted a photo of Isaac with his big brother, looking happier than Stiles had ever seen Isaac before, back before Camden died, and Isaac’s mom killed herself, and his dad became abusive. There was another photo on the wall of a young Isaac sitting in his mother’s lap on a swing, his blond curls shining in the sun, a wide smile on his face.

 

“Do…do you think that, somewhere out there, there’s a timeline…reality…thing, where Isaac didn’t have a crappy childhood…one where all of the horrible stuff didn’t happen to him?” Stiles asked, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. Behind him, he heard the Sherriff sigh.

 

“I don’t know, buddy, I honestly don’t know, but I really hope there is.”

 

“I know that Isaac and I haven’t always gotten on well in the past, but…but I’m glad you and Melissa have taken him in…he deserves to have good people like you guys looking after him…after everything he’s had to go through.”

 

Stiles blinked when he heard a soft sob, looking over his shoulder, only a little surprised to see Melissa standing in an archway that he guessed led to the kitchen, a tearful smile on her face. Stiles’ own emotions, so close to the surface these days, threatened to bubble over once again, but Stiles swallowed back his tears, a smile crossing his face instead.

 

It mustn’t have been very convincing, because Melissa crossed over to him and enveloped him in a gentle hug. Stiles closed his eyes and leaned into the embrace, wrapping his own arms around Melissa. Rubbing her back gently, trying to calm her down.

 

“You’re such a good sweet boy, Stiles, “Melissa smiled fondly, pulling back, “I’m glad you think that the Sherriff and I are the right people to look after Isaac.”

 

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay here?’ the Sherriff asked, “I mean, I know we kind of sprung this on you, and you’ve been in this reality for barely a week…we didn’t really give you a chance to say what you wanted to do…It’s not too late to take you back to Talia’s…or even Derek’s house.”

 

“No,” Stiles shook his head, “I’ll be fine here…I want to be here with you guys and Scott and Isaac. Staying with the Hales was fine...Talia was great, and Andrew and Cora made me feel at home, and Derek’s been great about this whole thing as well…but they aren’t my family…I mean, I know that technically you guys aren’t either, but…but you guys feel more like my family…my pack…than Talia and Andrew ever have…and ever will.”

 

Even Sherriff Stilinski had tears clinging to his eyelashes at Stiles’ words, and he stepped forward, engulfing Both Stiles and Melissa in a embrace.

 

“I’m glad that you feel that way, son.”

 

Stiles swallowed as tears gathered in his eyes once again as he was trapped in the embrace of the two people that were the closest to being his parents anyone in this reality was likely to be. He inhaled, breathing in the Sherriff scent, near identical to how his father had smelled back in his original timeline. Melissa smelled the same too, the same gentle perfume, as well as the scent of the hospital grade hand wash that she always seemed to carry.

 

Stiles lost track of time in the embrace of Melissa and the Sherriff, overwhelmed by the feeling of safety and security that he was enveloped with. It was only when Melissa let out a soft cough that the three of them stepped apart.

 

“Why don’t we show you your room?” Melissa suggested gently, taking Stiles by the hand and leading him towards the stairs. Stiles found himself nodding, glancing over his shoulder just to make sure the Sherriff was still following them. The reassuring look that the Sherriff sent him as he followed Melissa and Stiles up the staircase, the gentle, comforting smile on his face relaxing Stiles, reminding him that this was real…all of it was real.

 

Despite the reassurance, however, Stiles couldn’t contain the urge to quietly count his fingers as they reach the top of the stairs. He still had the correct number of fingers, as did both Melissa and the Sherriff, who both had ignored Stiles’ quick glances at their hands. Since they had first encountered him they had both seen him go through enough fingers counting episodes to expect the sideways glances Stiles directed at their hands from time to time.

 

“This is our room,” Melissa pointed to the first door they passed, and Stiles swallowed, having never actually made the connection between the Sherriff and Melissa living together, and them actually sharing a bedroom…and all that involved. He felt his cheeks and the tips of his ears go red at the very though, but he pushed it aside, forcing himself to think of all of the times he and Scott had tried to encourage their parents to get together so that they would be brothers for real. None of their plans had ever worked, but, really, this was what the final goal had been. Stiles just hadn’t quite thought of what it would actually mean.

 

Trying to blink the mental picture out of his mind, Stiles nodded, “Yep, your room…cool, good to know which room to tiptoe past if we’re sneaking out.”

 

“Scott and Isaac usually just go out the window, but they think we don’t know that.” The Sherriff shrugged, while Melissa laughed, continuing to walk along the landing.

 

“This is Isaac’s room,” she gestured at a closed door, “and the bathroom, and then here is your room. Scott’s on the other side of your room, so you’re all nice and close.”

 

Stiles blinked, knowing that Melissa was remembering what he and Scott had been like when they were young, especially in the aftermath of Scott’s dad leaving, and Stiles’ mom dying. It was a very common occurrence for Scott and Stiles to curl up together and fall asleep, even when they were both ten years old. It didn’t matter where it was either. Scott’s bed, Stiles’ bed, the McCall’s couch, the Stilinski’s couch, the rug in front of the McCall’s TV, under the Christmas tree at the Stilinski’s house, in a blanked fort, wherever it was constructed.

 

Stiles knew that, somewhere, Melissa and his dad had compiled a photo album that consisted mostly of photo’s of Scott and Stiles together over the years, and at least a quarter of the photos would be of the pair sleeping together. In the aftermath of the Nogitsune it had become common once again, with Stiles unable to sleep alone out of fear that he would hurt or kill someone else if he fell asleep and the nogitsune returned, and Scott’s alpha instincts demanding that he comfort and protect a member of the pack, especially one as hurt and damaged as Stiles had been.  

 

“Thanks.” Stiles smiled at Melissa, as she opened the door and then stepped aside, letting him be the first one to step into the room. Stiles looked around the room curiously as he stepped through the doorway. It was light, well lit by the large window that looked out over the backyard of the property, and over the back fence, the preserve. Stiles smiled to himself over the fact that the house backed onto the preserve. It would be very convenient on the night of full moons, especially for Scott and Isaac, to be so close to a large area where they could let loose and do werewolf things with the rest of the pack, and with the Hales as well. Stiles blinked as he remembered that they had all only been living together since last summer, after Scott and Isaac became werewolves, so the fact that the house backed on the preserve was no coincidence

 

Stiles’ room itself, was fairly large, perhaps a little bigger than his old bedroom back at his old house, but the only decorations in the room were the silvery blue coloured curtains that could be drawn over the window. A bed was positioned in one corner, as well as a bedside table with a lamp and an alarm clock on it. There was a desk all ready for Stiles’ laptop, and a bookshelf, ready for Stiles to fill. Stiles smiled when he saw a selection of comic books, probably originally from Scott’s collection, sitting in the bookshelf.

 

For Stiles’ clothes there was a dressing table, and the built in wardrobe, and Stiles cringed, imagining the shopping trips Lydia would be dragging him on. Realistically he knew that he needed more clothes than he currently had, but Stiles had a more than sneaking suspicion that Lydia wouldn’t let him pick out things that he would have picked out for himself in his original reality.

 

“It’s a bit boring looking at the moment, but we thought we’d let you decorate how you like to, it’s your space after all,” The Sherriff offered with a smile.

 

“Stiles…are you okay?” Melissa gently asked when Stiles didn’t respond to the Sherriff’s comment, and Stiles swallowed, realizing that he’d zoned out, and had no idea how long he’d been standing in the middle of the room. A hand touched his shoulder, and Stiles jumped violently, darting away from whoever the hand belonged to, turning on the balls of his feet to face whoever it was that had touched him, before freezing up, realizing it had only been the Sherriff.

 

“Sorry,” the Sherriff exclaimed, having stepped backwards at Sties’ reaction, and Stiles felt guilt was over him like a wave at the hurt look on both the Sherriff’s face, and Melissa’s as well.

 

“Don’t be,” Stiles shook his head, “it was my fault…the room is great, perfect even.”

 

“That’s good,” the Sherriff nodded, smiling, “why don’t you get settled in, Melissa and I will be downstairs if you need us.”

 

“Okay,” Stiles replied with a smile of his own, sliding his backpack carefully off his shoulder. The Sherriff turned to leave the room, Melissa just ahead of him, before he stopped, turning back around to face Stiles.

 

“Stiles,” he said in a serious, fatherly voice that automatically had Stiles looking at him, remembering the tone vividly.

 

“Whatever happens…whatever you went through, how you react to things now…it is not your fault. You shouldn’t have to apologize for one of us startling you, or if somebody says or does something that triggers something. I’ve seen a lot of people go through horrible things through my work. I see a lot of people with PTSD, or some form of it, and, trust me; their triggers are not their fault. The rest of us just need to learn what triggers you, and then avoid those triggers. For now, though, I just want…need you, to get settled in…to feel safe here, okay, Stiles?”

 

Stiles nodded, approaching the Sherriff and pulling him into a hug.

 

“Thanks…thanks Dad,” he croaked out, his voice thick with emotion.

 

Stiles and his dad hugged for a while, until they finally pulled away from one another, both of them blinking tears from their eyes. The Sherriff clapped Stiles gently on his back, giving him a tearful smile, before he turned and walked out of the room, heading downstairs to join Melissa. Stiles watched him go, before he exhaled, running his fingers through his hair, noticing that he was due for a haircut.

 

Crouching down, Stiles pulled his laptop out of his bag and set in on his desk, before he glanced out the window.

 

“Well…I guess this is home sweet home,” he said to himself quietly.

 


	17. Chapter 16

Stiles was silent as he sat on his new bed, feeling the soft bedding beneath his fingers, before he stretched out his hand and picked up the pillow. It wasn’t his pillow (but then, he really hadn’t expected his dad to keep it for all of these years), but the pillowcase on it still smelled like his one back in his reality. Obviously Melissa used the same laundry detergent as Stiles did. Stiles chest tightened as he thought about how much trouble he was going to have getting to sleep, although he managed to mentally talk himself out of having a full blown panic attack.

 

Really he would have had to go through the process of getting a new pillow comfortable, even if his dad had given him the pillow the Stiles of this timeline used. For one Stiles had changed pillows when he was 14 after it became apparent that pillows did, in fact, have an expiration date, and there was only so much a pillow could go through before it started leaking stuffing....and smelling.

 

Secondly Stiles was pretty sure his head was bigger now than what it had been when it was ten, and chances would be that an old pillow wouldn’t be very comfortable for his seventeen year old self.

 

It was because of these factors that Stiles reasoned that he wasn’t overly upset about losing his pillow. It wasn’t like he was going to be able to get his old pillow back, so what was the point whining about it. In time, he knew, this new pillow would be just as comfortable as his old pillow.

 

Casting aside thoughts about the pillow situation, Stiles cast his eyes around the room, paying attention to the little details that Stiles had missed during his first initial inspection. He looked at the comic books in the bookshelf, smiling as he recognised quite a few of his childhood favourites, as well as a few newer titles. He had a quick glance in the wardrobe, but it was empty except for a couple of blankets tucked away at the top.

 

It didn’t take very long for Stiles to begin to get broed, and if he was honest with himself, a little lonely, so he walked downstairs to see what the Sherriff and Melissa were up to. He followed the sounds of their voices to the kitchen, where they were sitting at the kitchen table having some coffee.

 

“Hey Stiles,” Melissa greeted, “Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat if you want,” she offered. Stiles shook his head with a smile. He’d had lunch with Talia and Andrew, and he still wasn’t able to eat much, although he had found that, since Deaton had given him the vial, his appetite was slowly returning.

 

“Maybe later, I kind of had a big lunch back at the Hale’s house.” Stiles explained to Melissa, who nodded in understanding.

 

“Alright, just let me know when you’re ready...the boys will be home soon, so if you want they can show you were everything is here in the kitchen, if you wanted to do it yourself.”

 

Stiles nodded again, keeping quiet, but inwardly grateful that Melissa gave him the option of being independent. Whether it was right or not, Stiles had been looking after himself ever since his mother died, or even a little before that. After the last few days, when everyone had been treating him like he might break, Stiles was beginning to think that maybe a chance to start being independent again was what he needed...something that was normal...something from before his life was turned upside down and he was thrown head first into the supernatural mess of Beacon Hills.

 

“Come on, I’ll show you around the bottom floor...it’s pretty self explanatory through,” the Sherriff offered, draining his mug and carrying it over to the sink, rinsing it out, before he turned and led Stiles out of the kitchen. Stiles was quiet as the Sherriff showed him where everything was, although it didn’t take very long for them to make their way back into the kitchen. Stiles glanced out the back door, taking in the grassed backyard, with a couple of large trees along the back fence line.

 

“Is it okay if I go out there for a bit?” Stiles asked carefully, pointing at the door, “I just want some fresh air.”

 

“Sure you can,” the Sherriff nodded, giving Stiles the gentlest of pushes in the back towards the door. Stiles walked towards the door, letting himself outside, before closing it behind him. He walked off the back porch and down onto the soft grass, breathing in the cool air. It was a sunny day, and the sun shone down on him. Stiles closed his eyes, enjoying the slight warmth the winder sun offered, sinking ot his knees on the grass.

 

Stiles knew that his desire to go outside hadn’t had anything to do with the PTSD. Instead, he had actually just wanted to go outside and look around the backyard...his new backyard. It was pretty similar to the one he’d had at his old house...and the McCall’s backyard as well, although naturally without the memories attached.

 

Stiles smiled to himself as he remembered all the shenanigans that he and Scott used to get up to. He remembered the summer when he and Scott had been eleven and they had decided to build a tree house using the skills they had picked up at Scouts...except it hadn’t worked out so well. Stiles had fallen out of the tree on the second day of construction and ended up in hospital for three days with a concussion and a broken arm. He remembered all of the times when he and Scott would make capes out of Melissa’s towels and run around the backyard, pretending to be superheroes, fighting off imaginary baddies and rescuing whatever porr victim the bad guys had kidnapped (Melissa had often played the victim for the boys’ games, but if she was busy Scott’s Teddy bear often got recruited into the game).

 

Stiles remembered the first time he’d witnessed one of Scott’s asthma attacks. They’d only been friends for a few months, and it was only the second or third time that they’d had a play date. Rafael McCall had been looking after them, but he’d been inside reading the newspaper as the boys played together outside. Stiles couldn’t remember what it was exactly they’d been playing, but it had been an active game of some sort, and it had triggered Scott’s asthma. Stiles vividly remembered how scared he’d been when Scott had stopped playing, and obviously was having trouble breathing. He’d bolted into the house and gotten Scott’s dad, tears pouring down his face, screaming that Scott couldn’t breathe and was going to die. After having a couple of puffs with his puffer Scott had been fine, but the event lingered on in Stiles’ mind. It wasn’t the only one of Scott’s asthma attacks that Stiles knew he’d never forget.

 

The first asthma attack Scott had that Stiles witnessed after Stiles’ mom died had been a bad one. Stiles had been sleeping over, and they’d been playing video games when Scott’s breathing had started to act up, becoming harsh and wheezing. Scott and Stiles both, at that point, were old enough to know what to do. Melissa had trained Stiles with basic Asthma first aid when he was seven, so he’d calmly gotten Scott’s puffer out of his school bag and passed it to him, counting Scott’s breaths aloud in between puffs so Scott could administer the medicine correctly. It was only when the medication didn’t seem to be working that Stiles began to worry, and he started yelling for Melissa. Melissa had come straight away, hearing the fear...the panic in Stiles’ voice. By that point Scott was gasping for air, not even able to speak. Melissa had taken one look at Scott and called for an ambulance...which had been enough to trigger Stiles’ own insecurities and fears.

 

Stiles, only nine at the time, had managed to control his own feelings long enough to last until the paramedics arrived, at which point he slipped, unnoticed, out of Scott’s room, heading for Melissa’s own room. Stiles was never certain why he chose to curl up and hide in Melissa’s wardrobe of all places, but that was where he’d gone, and once he was there, he’d gone into one of the worst panic attacks he’d ever experienced, convinced that Scott was going to die, and terrified by the prospect of Scott going to the hospital...now a place associated only with sickness and death in Stiles’ mind.

 

Terrified and alone, the panic attack had lasted for what felt like hours, but Stiles later learned was only minutes. It had continued to the point that Stiles had actually lost consciousness, his brain deprived of oxygen due to Stiles’ inability to breathe for too long to remain conscious.

 

Once he was unconscious, however, Stiles’ breathing had immediately returned to normal, although his heart rate had still been all over the place. Melissa had almost had a panic attack of her own when she went to leave with Scott and the Paramedics for the hospital, only to realise Stiles was missing. At that point Melissa had known that Stiles was very prone to panic attacks, and it didn’t take a nursing degree to realise that this was the sort of situation that would trigger Stiles’ panic attacks.

 

It hadn’t taken her long to find Stiles, unconscious, but breathing, curled up in a little ball at the bottom of her wardrobe, his face and shirt drenched with tears. It had been Melissa who had carried him from the house, stroking his hair gently, and into the waiting ambulance, where Scott, who was still wheezing badly, but at least seemed to be showing signs of improvement, and the paramedics were waiting.

 

In the end both Stiles and Scott had been administered to hospital that night for observation, but it had been okay, since they were assigned beds in the same room, and once Stiles had regained consciousness, he’d slipped into Scott’s bed and they’d fallen asleep curled up around one another, exhausted by the evening’s events. Melissa often told the story, rolling her eyes and telling them that it was one of the worst nights of her life, seeing both of her boys brought low by respiratory attacks.

 

Stiles was brought out of his memories when he heard the back door open, and then close again, looking over his shoulder to see the Sherriff standing at the top of the steps that led down into the backyard, a look of concern on his face.

 

‘You okay, buddy?’ he asked. Stiles nodded, actually happy with the answer. He’d always hated lying to his dad, even though he’d done a heck of a lot of it in the year leading up to his dad’s death, but he knew he wasn’t lying this time when he’d responded to the Sherriff’s question.

 

“Yeah...just remembering some stuff.”

 

“Good stuff?” the Sherriff asked, and Stiles chuckled.

 

“Yeah...sort of...pre –everything going nuts stuff.”

 

“Anything I’m likely to remember?”

 

Stiles caught the message beneath the Sherriff’s words....was there anything from before the Hale house fire...any memories that Stiles was reflecting on that had occurred with this reality’s version of Stiles.

 

“Yeah...most of it,” Stiles nodded, “some of it was...was after the fire though.”

 

“I’d like to hear some of them, if it’s okay.”

 

“Yeah sure,” Stiles nodded, “do you have time now, or do you want to do it later?”

 

“Now is good,” The Sherriff said, stepping down the stairs and sitting beside Stiles on the grass. Stiles told him the story about his and Scott’s ill fated attempt at building a tree house in their backyard. The Sheriff laughed as Stiles finished the story, shaking his head fondly.

 

“I am not surprised that you two would do something like that. You two together were an accident waiting to happen.”

 

“Nothing changed, to be honest,” Stiles admitted, “we were still idiots, even when we were older...Did I tell you once that we kidnapped Jackson and kept him in the police van...we were trying to prevent Derek from killing him...and Jackson from killing anyone else.”

 

The Sherriff eyes were wide as he stared at Stiles, who had the sense to look at least a little guilty about it.

 

“You kidnapped Jackson...and did...the other me...know about the supernatural at the time?”

 

“No,” Stiles replied with a shrug.

 

“And did you get caught?”

 

“Yeah...Jackson apparently doesn’t use the word love when it comes to his parents...how was I supposed to know that?”

 

In reply the Sherriff simply shook his head, marvelling at how the version of him from Stiles’ reality had managed to deal with the pack’s shenanigans without actually knowing. It was bad enough for him, and he’d known the truth about werewolves well before Scott was bitten.

 

“I’m glad you have good memories, and not just the bad memories that you torture yourself with,” he told Stiles, who nodded.

 

“Yeah, I’m glad too. As bad as everything’s been lately...there was still the occasional good moment.”

 

The pair fell into a comfortable silence, neither of them feeling like words were needed, both of them simply enjoying being in the other’s company. Stiles rested his elbows on his knees and placed his hands under his chin, looking out at the backyard thoughtfully. To one side of the backyard there was a lacrosse net set up, obviously so Isaac and Scott to practice at home, as well as at the school, and Stiles found himself actually missing playing. The lacrosse tram would have just started practices again, and would definitely already be preparing for the first match of the season in a few weeks time.

 

Stiles looked at it thoughtfully, remembering how proud his dad had been the night of the championship game, labelling him the hero. Even though he’d only played in that one game he was going to miss playing and training with the rest of the team. The cross country season was over, and Stiles had privately enjoyed training. It had helped with his excess energy, allowing him to concentrate better on his homework and researching for the pack, and the exercise had been useful, especially when it was combined when the amount of exercise he got when he was literally running for his life from werewolves or hunters or kanimas, or all three at the same time.

 

“Did you play...back in your reality?” the Sherriff asked, following Stiles’ line of sight. Stiles nodded, not breaking eye contact with the net, before he replied.

 

“Yeah...I’m not very good, and I only actually played during a game once...but yes, I was on the team.”

 

“I’m sorry that I never saw you play...your dad must have been very proud of you. Once Danny gets identity documents sorted out for you and you go back to school you should try out for the team,” the Sherriff suggested. Stiles blinked, having not considered the possibility of rejoining the team. It would be nice, to get back to something that was at least a little bit normal.

 

“Yeah...maybe I will...no guarantees about me getting in though, I kind of suck.” Stiles admitted, but in his head thoughts were spinning. A few of the kids that were studying photography, recruited by Danny and Jackson’s mothers, with the assistance and guidance of two of the cameramen and a sports program producer from the local TV station, had recorded the match, and then edited it all together to make it into a single recording of the game. It wasn’t nearly as good as it would have been if it had been recorded by TV cameras and qualified cameramen, but it was still of reasonable quality. Danny had given Stiles a copy of the game on a USB stick, and Stiles bit his lip, trying to remember if he’d transferred it over to his laptop. Maybe this version of his dad would still get the chance to see Stiles play in a game.

 

Thinking of Lacrosse made Stiles think about his kidnapping that followed the match, of the way Gerard had beaten him, of how Erica and Boyd had been bound, subdued with electricity, helpless. Stiles felt tears well in his eyes, remembering how he’d been one of the last ones to see Erica alive.

 

“Hey...it’s okay,” the Sherriff offered, seeing the tears in Stiles’ eyes, “I thought Lacorsse would be a good memory.”

 

“It is,” Stiles replied in a blank voice, “but what happened after that one match I played in...it wasn’t so good.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Stiles shook his head, “To be honest...that night was one of the few things I never told my dad the truth about. He died still believing the cover story I told him...or, well, wether or not he actually believed it i don’t actually know...he didn’t always believe me when i told him something. We’ll just settle on it being a case of me never getting around to telling him the truth about what happened. ”

For a moment it looked like the Sherriff was going to argue the point, suggesting that maybe telling him would be a new start, or something along those lines, but then he shook his head and closed his mouth without saying anything. Stiles felt grateful for the silence.

 

“While I remember,” Stiles offered gently, “I want to apologise, in advance.”

“For what?” The Sherriff asked softly.

 

“Tonight...and probably every night for the foreseeable future.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Stiles turned his head so he was looking at this timeline’s version of his dad, “I haven’t slept through the night without waking up screaming my head off in I’ve lost track how long. Nightmares had become a fairly significant part of my day to day life...and I’m not overly quiet, so unless there is soundproofing or whatever in those walls...you’re probably going to be woken up fairly regularly by me.”

 

“I wouldn’t be sorry about that, Stiles. Nightmares are something we’re very familiar with in this household. Anyone of us who holds you having nightmares against you is a hypocrite”

 

“Really?”

 

“Why do you think Isaac sleeps in the room next to Melissa and I, instead of the room next to Scott. Scott might be his Alpha, but Melissa is by far the best at calming him down when he gets upset. You know enough already about what crap he’s been through in his life to know that he’s going to have nightmares. It’s getting better, he’s not having them every night now...being a werewolf and the pack connections have helped a lot, but it still happens. Melissa sees enough horrible things at work to induce a few nightmares, plus all of her fears about losing Scott like I lost Stiles...or losing any of Scott’s pack for that matter. Derek got hurt a couple of weeks ago, nothing serious, but it looked pretty bad initially and Melissa went into full on mother protective mode, so that gives you an indication of how scared she is about losing one of you kids. As for Scott...he’s gone through a lot of stuff over the years...his dad leaving, Stiles dying in the fire, the fear and uncertainty around when he first got bitten, and then his fears about failing as an alpha...about losing a member of the pack. He’s not nearly as vocal about it as the rest of us, but if you know what to look for, if you’ve known him for as long as you and I and especially Melissa have known him, you can tell when he’s struggling. Derek’s getting better at picking it though, and Isaac and Allison too. When Scott’s struggling, it’s not uncommon to see the four of them...Derek, Scott, Allison and Isaac, all curled up together in Scott’s bed, or in the living room watching TV at some ridiculous time of the night.”

 

“What about you...do you have nightmares?” Stiles asked, although he knew the answer. Even in his original reality Stiles knew his dad had nightmares.

 

“Your mother...watching her die, walking out of the elevator at the hospital and seeing you, alone, in that corridor, sobbing your little heart out, and knowing that you were there for her, and I should have been there too, for both of you...how I failed you...so many times, after your mom died. Then there’s the one about losing people...Melissa...Scott and Isaac...you...the rest of the pack...Parrish. My mind gets very creative when it conjures up ways to happen...probably because of my job  Most...most of them...my nightmares...they’re about that night...the night of the Hale Fire. Sometimes I imagine what it was like for Stiles, the smoke, the flames, the burning. Sometimes I imagine that Stiles burned to death, or he asphyxiated, slowly and painfully choking on the smoke, while I’m watching on and can’t do a thing to help him. A lot of the times, I remember my memories of that night...Of driving up towards the Hale’s house, lights and sirens going, and passing an ambulance as it headed back to Beacon Hills.”

 

The Sherriff swallowed deeply at that point, and Stiles was silent, giving this version of his dad time to compose himself and get his thoughts together.

 

“I only found out when I got up there, once the fire was under control, from the deputy that got there first...that the ambulance that I passed on my way to the fire...contained my son. Two minutes later a doctor at the hospital called me, and told me that Stiles had been declared dead on arrival. Loosing Claudia had been bad enough, but that moment there...that moment up at the Hale’s, with the house still burning in the background, the entire Hale family huddled together looking completely shell-shocked, Derek looking like he wanted to kill himself in guilt over what had happened, that doctor’s voice in my ear telling me they’d done everything they could to try and bring my son back, but Stiles was just too badly hurt...that remains to be the worst moment in my entire life.”    


	18. Chapter 17

Stiles smiled to himself as he heard the distinctive sound of Scott’s motorcycle approaching the house. He was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking the cup of water that he had gotten for himself once he had gone back inside.

 

The Sherriff had remained outside, having a quiet moment to himself after telling Stiles about his nightmares about the night of the Hale fire. Stiles had respected the Sherriff’s request, knowing better than most people that sometimes you just needed to sit and think, just let the thoughts process, to give yourself time to get your head around what was going on.

 

Stiles wasn’t surprised when the back door opened and the Sherriff walked in, his eyes a little red, as if he’d been crying. Stiles ducked his head, looking away as Melissa crossed over to the Sherriff, rubbing his arm gently.

 

“You okay?” Melissa asked in a gentle voice, as Stiles cringed, feeling very much like he was infringing on some sort of personal moment between the two adults in the room. He was very much relieved to hear Scott’s motorbike pull into the driveway.

 

“Yeah...I’m okay...I just needed a moment,” the Sherriff offered before turning his attention to Stiles, “You ready for the whirlwind of werewolf that you are about to get thrown into, kid?”

 

“I think I’ll manage,” Stiles replied with a smile as the front door opened and Scott and Isaac trooped into the house, talking about an assignment that Kira’s dad had assigned their history class.

 

They made it a full few steps into the room before Scott’s head whipped up, his gaze locking onto Stiles a moment before a wide smile broke across his face. Isaac too was beaming at the sight of Stiles.

 

“Dude, I didn’t know you were coming here today?” Scott exclaimed joyfully, dropping his school bag and bounding over to Stiles like he was a little puppy, before he wrapped his arms tightly around Stiles. Stiles found himself smiling as he responded to Scott’s hug, embracing Scott just as tightly as he smirked at the supposed True Alpha’s antics.

 

“We thought it would be a nice surprise,” Melissa offered from where she stood as Isaac joined Scott and Stiles, hugging both of them. Isaac joining in the embrace was enough to throw off Stiles’ balance, and they all toppled over, Scott and Isaac manoeuvring as they fell to ensure they didn’t land on top of Stiles.

 

“Boys...remember...this house is not supernatural creature proof,” Melissa scolded, although her voice lacked any heat, and all three boys knew her well enough to know she wasn’t genuinely cross.

 

The two adults exchanged smiles as they watched the three teenagers. Stiles was grinning madly as Scott and Isaac tried to scent mark him, trying to memorise the scent of the newest member of the pack now it was without the taint of illness or the darkness that he had brought with him from his original timeline.

 

Stiles could feel a witty comment on the tip of his tongue, but instead he clamped his mouth shut, knowing, deep down, that it was important for at least some members of the pack to be fairly familiar with his scent. This version of Scott really hadn’t had that many opportunities to get to know Stiles’ scent, and Isaac had had even less of a chance. If something happened, and the werewolves needed to track Stiles’ scent, it would be a lot easier if they were already familiar with it.

 

Being surrounded by the warmth of the two werewolves was oddly reassuring, and brought back memories of the summer in between his sophomore and Junior Years, when he’d been helping Derek search for Erica and Boyd, as well as researching the Alpha Pack. Even though none of them ever mentioned it, on more than one occasion Isaac, Stiles and Derek had ended up sleeping quite close to one another, the two werewolves seeking contact with one another as their inner wolves pined for their missing pack mates, while Stiles had been grateful for the company since Scott was preoccupied with summer school, his work at Deaton’s, and pining over Allison.

 

This...this felt even better than that. Stiles had thought that he would never again get to see Scott let go of his human inhibitions and just act on his werewolf instincts, that he would never again get to see the puppy like delight in Isaac’s eyes when someone let him close and showed him any sort of affection. In the past it had just plain annoyed Stiles...but now he could see why it was so damn endearing to everyone else.

 

“God I missed you guys,” Stiles said softly, a lone tear rolling down his cheek. Scott paused and looked down at him, and Isaac glanced between his alpha and Stiles, both werewolves knowing that Stiles wasn’t talking about having not seen them since the last time he saw them, which was only the previous afternoon, but rather, the versions of them from Stiles’ original timeline...the ones that died.

 

“I missed you too,” Scott replied, his eyes shining with tears. Stiles felt the corners of his mouth lift in a weak smile, knowing that Scott too was referring to the version of Stiles he had lost, rather than Stiles himself.

 

“Nothing was the same without you there,” Scott continued, and Stiles bit his lip, thinking how hard it would have been for Scott to cope with loosing him back then, when it had just been the two of them.

 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles apologised, “that you had to go through htat. I can’t even imagine what it was like...at least I was a little bit older...a little more mature...when I lost everyone.”

 

Isaac tried to stifle his snort of amusmenet, but failed.

 

“Well...I said a little more mature...” Stiles protested. It was enough to bring the smile back to Scott’s face.

 

“Come on, We’ve got to check out how good you are at video games...It’ll be good to have another player on game nights. I’ve tried to get Erica to join in, but she just doesn’t get it.” Isaac told Stiles, tugging on his sleeve gently. Scott rose to his feet, and Isaac pulled Stiles up as Stiles grinned.

 

‘I’ll have you know,” he told them proudly, “that I am the undisputed king at video games. I can whip both your furry little werewolf butts at Mario Kart.”

 

 

“I’ll take that bet.” Isaac grinned brightly, eyeing Stiles challengingly.

 

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, inwardly cheering at how confident this version of Isaac was, “what’s the wager.”

 

Isaac paused thoughtfully, “the looser does the dishes for the week.” He decided. Stiles shrugged.

 

“You’re on.” Stiles nodded, shaking Isaac’s outstretched hand, “You want in, Scotty?”

 

“No way, dude, I remember how seriously you take these kinds of things. Isaac’s good, way better than me at Mario Kart. I’ll let him represent the werewolves in this.”

 

“Okay, your choice,” Stiles shrugged.

 

Isaac walked towards the living room, “shall we?” he asked, gesturing towards the room. Stiles nodded.

 

“Bring it on.”

 

TEEN WOLF

 

 

“Dude, I can’t belive you lost. You were supposed to be representing all of werewolf kind.” Scott moaned at Isaac, who grumbled, shooting a half hearted glare at Stiles, who, by comparison was cracking his fingers in his hand.

 

“Care for another tournament...We’ll see who can win best of seven.” Stiles offered casually, unable to keep the slightly smug tone out of his voice. Admittedly he had earned the right to gloat, in his own opinion. He had thoroughly beaten Isaac at Mario Kart, wowing both of the werewolves with his skill at navigating Rainbow Road. Even with Isaac’s faster reflexes and supposed were wolf powers Stiles had won every single race...and they had played for hours. Stiles even knew Isaac well enough to be reasonably sure that the werewolf wasn’t even letting him win...Isaac’s frustration was a pretty good indicator, although Stiles couldn’t be sure.  

 

“No...I know when I’m beaten. Besides, I probably should go and do some homework before Melissa and the Sherriff give me the disappointed look,” Isaac conceded, handing his controller over to Scott and rising to his feet. Stiles offered Isaac his hand, which the werewolf took, and they shook hands. Stiles gave the curly haired werewolf a tentative smile, trying to figure out if the werewolf was genuinely annoyed with him. Much to Stiles’ surprise, Isaac smiled happily back at him.

 

“looks like I’m on dishes duty this week,” he cheerfully told Stiles, before he turned and headed upstairs.

 

Stiles tilted his head curiously, “This version of Isaac is different from the one back home.” he told Scott, who nodded

 

“Different life experiences I guess...he’s changed a lot since he first moved in with us. He was really quiet and reserved at first, and then when I got bitten he sort of got thrown in the deep end with everything.”

 

“Makes sense I suppose,” Stiles shrugged, “what about you...are you game?”

 

“No...I probably should go do some homework as well...I’ve got a fair bit to do this week...but you can come with me if you want.”

 

“It’s okay,” Stiles shook his head, “you go...your mom will kill me if she finds out I’m distracting you from your homework.”

 

Scott gave Stiles an apologetic smile before he too went upstairs, leaving Stiles sitting alone, staring down at the Wii controller he had been using, which he still had in his hand. Stiles’ vision blurred a little with tears, and he angrily wiped at his cheeks when he felt moisture on them.

 

The afternoon had been a lot of fun...and the emotional turmoil he was going through, the memories of blood and fear and terror and chaos had been pushed to the back of his head, forgotten for the time being. Now though, with Isaac and Scott upstairs, and Stiles without anything to do, the memories came flickering back, and Stiles felt guilty for allowing himself to forget...to actually have fun for a bit, even if it was only for a few short hours.

 

Rising to his feet, Stiles quickly turned off and packed away the game and all the associated technology, wandering out of the living room and spotting Melissa in the kitchen, beginning the preparations for dinner.

 

“Are you okay, Stiles?’ she asked, motherly concern thick in her voice. Stiles shrugged, not even knowing himself, but at the same time knowing that he didn’t want to start off his life living with this version of his dad and Scott’s mom with a lie.

 

“Is there anything I can help you with?” he said instead, “i kind of just want to do something, keep my mind busy, so i stop thinking...for a bit.”

 

“Of course, assistance is always welcome...except when it’s from Scott...that boy could burn water.”

 

“I know...that’s the same back where I came from. Scott is hopeless in a kitchen...except for getting stuff out...he was always pretty good and knowing where all the good food was, even when it wasn’t his kitchen...and even before he was a werewolf.”

 

Melissa laughed, “You’re right...I couldn’t hide anything when it came to food, Scott would always find it. The you of this timeline...beofre he died...he was already showing an interest in cooking though, John told me.”

 

“Mom and I did a lot of cooking together before she got sick. She taught me as much as she could before she started to forget her favourite recipes and how to use the oven I hid her recipe book up in my room when they moved her to the hospital the last time because I was scared Dad was going to throw it out.” Stiles remembered in a soft voice.

 

“We found it when we were cleaning out your old room. Nobody went in there after our Stiles died, except for Scott when he was really missing you, and sometimes the Sherriff or I to comfort him, but other than that it was left untouched. The book is in a box of things in the basement, I can get Scott to hook out the box, as well as any other things that you want out of your old room. Granted, nothing from the last seven or so years will be there, of course, but things from before that will be.”

 

“Thanks...and thanks for not getting rid of it. I know it didn’t really look like much...I think I drew all over the front cover when i was three or something...but ..but it meant a lot to my mom.”

 

“Oh sweetheart, neither I, nor your dad would ever get rid of anything so special...especially now that you’re here. Just because your father and I are living together like this...it doesn’t mean that he loves your mom any less, it doesn’t mean that he has forgotten her.” Melissa explained gently.

 

Stiles nodded quickly, “I know that, I know that you never wanted to take my mom’s place, with my dad, or me, and I get that how he feels about you doesn’t change how he feels about my mom. I’m glad that he has you...I just...when he was drinking, right after mom died, he’d have nights when he’d just get really drunk and throw out some of mom’s stuff, crying and yelling about he missed her and he didn’t want to be reminded of how she wasn’t there anymore, he didn’t want to be reminded of her. For the first few months he wouldn’t even look at me in the eyes because I looked so much like her.”

 

Melissa nodded in understanding, “He told me all about that, not very long after the fire,” she told Stiles, “he said that he was still avoiding looking at Stiles when the fire happened.”

 

Stiles hesitated, thinking back to his own memories of the year following his mother’s death, and swallowed, realising that Melissa was right. It hadn’t been until after the fire that John had started being able to cope with Stiles again.

 

“I don’t blame him for it,” Stiles said, sitting down at one of the stools at the kitchen counter, “I never did, even straight after it happened. I liked it more when Dad was ignoring me instead of when he was drunk. I’d done my research...I knew what excessive consumption of alcohol can do to a body...and I was terrified of burying dad with mom.”

 

Walking around the counter, Melissa sat down next to Stiles, “I think we all forgot how mature you were back then...how clever you were. I don’t think Scott did, but all of the adults left in your life, we all forgot how perceptive you were, that you would notice these things. I’m sorry about that...that you had to go through that, without someone to hold you when you needed it.”

 

“I had someone,” Stiles replied with a soft smile, “I had Scott. He stuck with me through it all, and I had Dad and you as well...and later on I had Lydia and Allison and Derek and the others. It might have taken awhile...but things got better...eventually.”

 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Melissa told Stiles with a slight smile, hesitating before she put a comforting arm around his shoulder and leaned over, kissing the top of his head, “You deserve so much better than your life has given you, Stiles.

 

Stiles blinked, remembering all of the bad things that had happened in his life so far. Melissa was right; it all seemed so unfair, although Stiles’ hadn’t ever complained about it. Instead he’d just bitten his tongue and kept fighting through the turmoil, just like he’d been instructed by Ms. Morrel.

 

“Maybe this is some sort of reward,” Melissa offered, “the chance to come here and spend your life with your loved ones...everyone you had lost since you got thrown into this supernatural mess.”

 

Stiles found himself nodded, gazing out the kitchen window to the McCall’s backyard, steely determination strengthening his spine. Melissa was right. He was lucky to have this opportunity, and he was going to make the most of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, sorry this took so long to update. You all have been so very patient, and I have left you hanging for far too long and you deserve and explanation. I have spent three weeks on holiday in New Zealand, and needed a bit of time to get my photos organszed and everyhting like that, which didn't leave much time for writing. After that i had a bit of a block going on this story...but hopefully that has been resolved now and i will be able to update more regularly once again. R.W.


	19. Chapter 18

“Did we do this sort of thing often in your original timeline?” Lydia asked Stiles as they sat together on a fallen tree, watching the werewolf members of the pack, plus Kira and Allison, training. Danny sat on Lydia’s other side, reading one of Peter’s books about the supernatural that he’d been loaned.

 

It was just Scott’s pack out in the woods today. Stiles had only been living with the Sherriff, Melissa, Scott and Isaac for a few days, and it was Friday night...traditionally pack night. Since the weather was good, and Lacrosse Practice had been cancelled thanks to an outbreak of the flu at school that had left some of the players and Coach Finstock bedridden, the pack had decided to spend some time out in the woods mucking around before heading back to Scott’s house and chilling out there eating Pizza and watching movies.

 

“Not like this,” Stiles observed, watching as Jackson and Liam wrestled one another in the dirt, and Scott and Isaac playfully bounded around Allison and Kira. Derek was watching as Erica, Boyd and Jackson played some sort of game. The weird part was that they were all shifted (except for Allison and Kira of course). None of them had ever fully shifted just for playing, not in Stiles’ timeline. He hadn’t even known it was possible, and he’d had a minor panic attack when Scott had dropped him off in the clearing with Allison and then disappeared, only to return a few minutes later in full wolf form, only distinguishable by size and his Alpha red eyes…and the way he licked Allison’s hand. After a bit Stiles had worked out for himself who was who. The smallest wolf was Liam, while Derek was the second biggest, with Black fur and bright blue eyes. Isaac and Erica were hard to separate, although once Isaac rolled over onto his back so that Kira could scratch his belly it got made a lot easier. Jackson had lighter colored fur, like Erica and Isaac, although he was slightly bigger than both of them, and he had bright blue eyes like Derek. Boyd was bigger than Jackson, and like Derek and Scott he had dark fur, but with amber eyes.

 

“We didn’t really have much time in between crisis’ for play time…and when we weren’t trying to save the town we were usually fighting amongst ourselves,” Stiles admitted, “and…to be honest, I didn’t know that they could do this…you know…fully shift.”

 

Lydia nodded, “Talia probably hadn’t got round to teaching Derek how to do it when she died in your timeline, and the knowledge died with her. She and Derek taught Scott how to do it once it was realized that he was a true Alpha and that he’d need a pack of his own. As people got brought into the pack they were taught. Liam’s only just got the hang of it, and he’ll probably still need Scott and Derek to coach him back into human form.”

 

Stiles watched, a small smile on his face as Liam bounded over to Scott and jumped on his back…or at least tried to. Allison and Kira doubled over laughing when Liam slipped off and Scott playfully began wrestling with the youngest beta in the dust. Stiles could see how gentle Scott was being with Liam; while at the same time it was obvious that while it looked like they were fighting…there was an element of training to what they were all doing. It was what the pack should have been like from the start.

 

Instead the Alphas that Stiles had dealt with had been unsuitable in their own way for their role. Scott, despite being a true alpha, was still very new to being a werewolf, and didn’t have the knowledge base that probably was needed, Derek had neither the personality, nor the training to be a good Alpha, although he had tried, and Peter was just plain insane.

 

Despite having been in this reality for almost a week, Stiles hadn’t seen anyone from Talia’s pack except for Talia, Andrew, and a few brief encounters with Cora. He hadn’t asked about it, guessing that there was a reason that the Hale pack was keeping their distance. Stiles wondered if it was because they wanted him to have a chance to connect with Scott’s pack…the pack that he had once belonged to (or at least a version of it,) before he was introduced to the rest of the Hale family.

 

It didn’t really bother him, though…whatever Talia’s reasons were. For the moment Stiles was quite happy getting to know this reality’s version of the pack he had belonged to in his own timeline.

 

The more time he spent with the pack Stiles became more and more aware…and more used to, the differences between this pack, and his friends. It was actually interesting to see the difference him dying instead of the Hales had made to everyone’s personalities. The difference was most noticeable in Derek. Not being weighed down by the guilt he’d carried about being responsible for the Hale fire, and still having his parents and the rest of the family to support him and guide him through the aftermath of the fire had made him less brooding and more willing to talk and socialize with the rest of the pack, instead of staying back and watching from a distance. He was still very protective of the rest of the pack, but Stiles had noticed he wasn’t so uptight about it.

 

It did occur to Stiles that the fact that he’d noticed the subtle change in this reality’s version of Derek, compared to what he was used to, meant that he was paying a little too much attention to Derek…but nobody had commented on it, so it looked like he’d gotten away with it. One of the advantages, Stiles guessed, of not being very well known by the majority of the pack.

 

Thank God for small mercies.

 

“You should document everything that’s different here. It would be interesting to see what has changed between the two realities…It might help prevent something happening.”

 

“I might do that,” Stiles agreed, “Talia knows everything though, she’ll be able to help me, when she’s not being busy doing alpha things.”

 

“I know that Talia knows. You probably haven’t noticed, but she’s been acting strange around everyone since you got here.”

 

“Really…what do you mean?” Stiles asked curiously. Lydia cast a thoughtful look over the pack, pursing her lips.

 

“Like she’s scared of us dying. She’s done more scent marking in the last few days than she has done in the last three months. It’s most noticeable with Derek and Scott. When Scott got bitten Talia sort of took him an as another one of her kids, although Scott resented it a lot at first. It wasn’t until I was attacked by the Argents and Jackson had to get bitten that Scott accepted what was going on. They got closer after that. Derek…Talia’s always been protective of Derek, ever since the fire, I think. Amanda Hale…Peter’s wife…she told me how much Derek changed after the fire…after he carried our version of you out of the fire. He confessed what had happened with Kate Argent right afterwards, convinced that he was going to be arrested for his role in our Stiles’ death. Amanda said that he was so broken back then. Talia was scared he was going to do something stupid because he felt so guilty over what happened.” Lydia told Stiles softly.

 

Stiles swallowed thickly. The idea of Derek killing himself seemed so foreign. His version of Derek wouldn’t ever have done something like that, not while Stiles had known him. He had a sudden thought of a teenaged Derek, drowning in his own guilt after the fire that killed almost his entire family. It was possible, Stiles reasoned, that Derek went through a phase when he wanted to end his own life, but at the same time he couldn’t picture Derek leaving Laura behind voluntarily. Judging from the little he knew about Laura Hale, Stiles doubted that she would have let Derek entertain the thought of suicide for very long before talking him out of it, with or without using her new alpha powers.

 

As Stiles thought he found himself subconsciously tracking Derek’s movements through the clearing as the werewolf padded his way towards Erica, Jackson and Boyd, who all decided to try and jump on him. Derek easily dodged their attacks, huffing in a way that Stiles guessed was amusement, before he began playfully wrestling with them.

 

“I’m glad he’s happier here,” Stiles commented softly, “Derek…the Derek of my timeline deserved some of this. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

 

“He had you,” Lydia offered quietly, “at least that’s something.”

 

“He didn’t like me,” Stiles shrugged, “I annoyed him. If I wasn’t friends with Scott he wouldn’t have tolerated me being around. We kept saving each other’s life, and we were sort of friends, but other than that we didn’t really associate with one another.”

 

Lydia frowned sadly, before she put her hand on Stiles’ shoulder, “I’m sorry for everything that happened to you and your pack in your reality. You didn’t deserve any of that either.”

 

“Thanks, Lydia,” Stiles nodded, accepting the gesture. A year ago, if he’d been told that Lydia would be willingly touching him, even if it was just a comforting hand on his shoulder, Stiles would have thrown a party, but now, after everything he’d been through, it just felt nice…familiar. Lydia had become like a sister, one of his best friends, and her death had been one of the most devastating he’d had to deal with. Having her back in this reality brought back painful memories, but at the same time Stiles found it very reassuring and comforting.

 

“I missed you,” Stiles admitted, “After you…died I realized how much I’d come to think of you as one of my best friends. We were in hell then, like literal hell, and there was no time to grieve, but then, after Derek and Scott and Kira died and it was all over grieving for everyone was all I could do. I must have looked pathetic, but to be honest I didn’t really care at that point. If I had the energy I probably would have walked up to the bluffs and jumped. I thought about killing myself so much back then, but then I’d hear this voice in the back of my head, and sometimes it would be you, sometimes it would be Derek, sometimes it would be Scott, and sometimes it was my dad, begging me not to do it, telling me to be strong, that I was being stupid…that I needed to pull myself together and get over it.” As he spoke Stiles was fully aware that every non human in the pack could hear what he was saying, although he didn’t care. It wasn’t as if it wasn’t obvious when he’d met them all that he’d been though hell…his appearance would have told them that, even if they didn’t catch on from his behavior and his story of what had happened.

 

Indeed, Erica, Isaac, Liam and Jackson weren’t even trying to hide the fact they were eavesdropping. Scott was trying to hide it, but Stiles knew Scott too well to be fooled, even though he was in wolf form. The way Derek’s canine eye glinted told Stiles that he was listening in too, and well…Boyd was difficult to read even in human form, Stiles wasn’t going to even attempt guessing whether or not the wolf was eavesdropping. Boyd didn’t need to eavesdrop, though, Stiles thought, because somebody, probably Erica, would tell him everything the minute they were alone.

 

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Lydia told him calmly, probably just as aware as he was of the pack around them, listening to their conversation intently, “You deserve this second chance at happiness. I know that I haven’t experienced loss like you have, but the pain…the grief you’ve had to deal with. It will get better. It won’t go away completely…but it will get better. You’ve just got to give it time.”      

 

“Thanks Lydia,” Stiles replied, reassured by her words.

 

TW

 

John Stilinski startled awake, not sure what had caused his sudden return to consciousness. Melissa was working the night shift at the hospital, so it wasn’t as though he’d been awoken by her getting into bed. It took a few seconds for all of his senses to beginning to work, and then he was out of his bed in a moment, the sound of screaming thick in the air. He heard the distinctive sound of both Isaac and Scott’s bedroom doors flying open as he wrenched his own bedroom door open, and stepped out into the hallway as Scott practically flew into Stiles’ room.

 

John ran down the hallway until he drew level with Isaac, standing fearfully at the threshold of Stiles’ room, looking in. John’s heart leapt into his mouth as he looked into the room and saw Stiles thrashing on the bed, screaming and flailing his arms as Scott tried to embrace him. He cringed sympathetically when one of Stiles’ hands made contact with Scott’s face, and stepped forward to help as Scott finally managed to get his arms around Stiles’ middle, pinning his arms safely.

 

“Stiles, shhh, it’s me, it’s Scott, come on, dude, snap out of it,” Scott murmured softly in Stiles’ ear, sitting on the edge of Stiles’ bed. John crossed the room, sitting on the other side of Stiles as the teenager’s eyes fluttered open and his screams faded to hoarse whimpers.

 

“I’ll go get some water,” Isaac offered, turning and running down the hallway as John gingerly raised his hand and combed is fingers through Stiles’ hair.

 

‘It’s okay, buddy, it’s over,” John offered reassuringly, Stiles’ tearful eyes turning his way as he whimpered and shook his head.

 

“No…They were dead…everyone was dead,” Stiles sobbed, his breath hitching dangerously in a way John recognized from back when his Stiles used to have panic attacks just after Claudia died.

 

“Hey…hey, come on Stiles you need to breath.” John told him, rubbing his arm. Stiles, however, shook his head, his eyes a little more panicked now as he rubbed at his own chest.

 

“Can’t” he gasped out, oblivious to the fear on Scott’s face.

 

“Yes you can, come on, buddy, with me,” John reassured, forcing a calm that he didn’t feel into his voice as he grabbed one of Stiles’ hands and placed it flat against his own chest, “Breathe with me,” John instructed, exaggerating his own breathing so it was obvious to Stiles in his panicked State.

 

It took a few goes, but finally Stiles caught on, much to John’s relief. Stiles’ lips and fingertips had begun to turn blue from lack of oxygen, and he’d begun to worry about Stiles passing out, but with every shaky breath Stiles managed to inhale and then exhale, his skin color improved. The whole way John found himself talking, reassuring Stiles that everything was okay, and that everyone in the pack was ok. It was true, as far as this reality went. There wasn’t anything John could do about the pack in Stiles’ original reality, but he could reassure Stiles about the safety of this reality’s versions of his friends.

 

John watched Stiles carefully as he seemed to come down from the attack, monitoring him for any other symptoms. He noticed immediately the way Stiles’ breath hitched, and he quickly turned and grabbed a conveniently placed waste paper basket from its spot on the floor beside the desk, holding it in front of Stiles as the teenager heaved and emptied the contents of his stomach into the bin. Scott, to his credit, only drew back a little before he went back to rubbing Stile’s back reassuringly.

 

Once he’d finished Stiles slumped into John’s side with a low moan, taking the tissue Scott offered him to wipe his face.

 

“I hate panic attacks…my head hurts,” Stiles sighed, “and I’m tired, but I don’t want to sleep because then the nightmares will come back.”

 

“I know how that feels,” Isaac counseled as he stepped into the room, glass of water in hand. Isaac gave the glass to Stiles, who rinsed his mouth out, spitting the water into the bin, before he took a couple of sips.

 

“Can you two stay with him; I’ll take care of this?” John asked Isaac and Scott, who both nodded. Stiles only protested a little as John carefully pushed him over so he was leaning against Scott instead, before rising to his feet and leaving the room, taking the bin with him. He washed it out in the laundry, before leaving the bin upside down in the sink and making his way upstairs.

 

Although he’d only been gone for, at most, seven minutes, John wasn’t surprised to find Stiles asleep again when he returned to the teenager’s room, Scott’s hand resting on his arm and thin tendrils of back working their way up Scott’s arm, before fading.

 

“We gave him an aspirin for his head,” Isaac explained from his spot beside Stiles, having taken the position John had occupied, “and he dropped off back to sleep.”

 

"That’s good, he needs it,” John replied calmly, knowing instinctively, after living with Scott and Isaac for as long as he had, that the teens were planning on spending the night in Stiles’ room, looking after the newest member of the pack, despite the fact he wasn’t a werewolf.

 

“You two need to get some sleep as well. You’ve got school in the morning.”

 

“Yes Sherriff,” Scott nodded as Isaac wriggled under the blankets beside Stiles comfortably, snuggling into the already sleeping boy. John smiled to himself at the trio, before he stepped out of the room, pulling the door so it was almost closed, but not entirely, just in case Stiles woke up again. He made his way back to his own bed, and slipped beneath the covers.

 

Sleep, however, eluded John, his mind full of thoughts about Stiles, and the trauma he’d gone through. John hated that the kid had gone through what he had, and not because of the connection Stiles had to John’s own version of Stiles. Nobody deserved to go through what Stiles had…with a few notable exceptions. Kate Argent and her father were two such exceptions, and Isaac’s father was another.

 

Not for the first time John closed his eyes and prayed to Claudia and to his version of Stiles, asking that they watch over the version of Stiles currently sleeping curled up with Scott and Isaac, and protect him from any further hardship.

 

John just hoped that his prayers were answered, for Stiles’ sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay betweeen updates...My muse has not been co-operating. I have, however, already made a start on the next chapter and HOPEFULLY it will come together quickly. As a special preview...Stiles meets some members of Talia's pack, and Danny works some magic (not literally).


	20. Chapter 19

Stiles followed Scott up the steps leading to the Hale’s porch, watching as Scott knocked on the wide open front door with one hand. It didn’t take very long at all for the door to swing open, and Stiles bit his lip as he lay eyes on an individual that looked so much like Derek and Talia that it could only be Derek’s older sister Laura…the one whose death had drawn him out into the woods, dragging Scott with him, the night Scott was bitten by Peter.

 

“Hey Laura,” Scott greeted, confirming Stiles’ suspicions, “How’ve you been?”

 

“Good thanks,” Laura replied, stepping aside and letting Scott and Stiles pass over the threshold and into the house.

 

“Hi, I’m Laura…Derek’s sister,” Laura introduced herself to Stiles, offering him her hand to shake.

 

Stiles took it, “Stiles Stilinski…which you probably already knew.”

 

“Well…your arrival here has caused a bit of a stir,” Laura admitted, “My mother has been telling me about what’s has been going on. She hasn’t given me much in the way of details, but she has said that you’ve been through a hard time, and that in your reality you were the last one standing of your pack. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard that was.”

 

“It wasn’t pleasant,” Stiles agreed.

 

“Seriously though,” Laura reached out and took Stiles by the arm gently, “my mom told me you were with that reality’s version of Derek when he died…that you were friends with one another.”

 

“I guess you could say we were friends…I’m pretty sure he wanted to kill me most of the time, but we…we were pack.”

 

“Thank you…for being there with him. Mom said that none of us were left, and that the two of you were the last ones left of Scott’s pack. I’m glad you were there with him. Loosing pack hurts, more than anything, or so I’m told.”

 

Stiles’ heart clenched a little as he thought of the version of Laura from his original timeline, the one who had become Alpha of a broken pack at the age of only 18, forced to cope with the loss of everyone except for her brother, who was consumed with guilt and anger, and her uncle, broken in body, mind and Spirit and in hospital, unable to heal.

 

Just under six years later she’d been lured back to Beacon Hills and murdered for her power and position as Alpha by her uncle, triggering a chain of events that nobody could have predicted.

 

Stiles remembered Laura on the night of the fire…watching from the front seat of his father’s police cruiser, wrapped in a blanket to keep the chill of the night out, as she stared in shock in disbelief at the burning building in front of her, her arms around Derek as the younger teenager’s legs had given out beneath him.   Stiles remembered how the flames of the fire had reflected in Laura’s eyes, making them seem almost red.   It was only later that Stiles realized that it was quite possible that Laura’s eyes had burned red that night, before she’d gained control of her Alpha abilities.

 

Later that night, Stiles had seen Laura and Derek together at the Sherriff station, outside his father’s office, before Laura had gone in alone, leaving Derek out in the corridor by himself. Stiles had seen how broken the two teenagers had been, absolutely devastated by the loss of almost their entire family.

 

In hindsight, Stiles was fairly certain that watching Derek and Laura in the Sherriff’s department the night of the Hale fire, was the moment when his fear of losing his dad really kicked in. Yes, it had been there since his mother had first gotten sick, but seeing Laura and Derek that night, almost all of their family gone, had been enough to kick it up a notch, triggering Stiles’ obsessive need to make sure his father stayed alive.

 

A gentle prodding in his side dragged Stiles forcibly out of his thoughts, and he blinked back to the present day, looking over at Scott, who was giving him a concerned look.

 

“You ok, Stiles?’

 

“Yeah, I’m good, sorry,” Stiles apologized, both to Scott, and to Laura, who looked as though she was struggling not to surge forward and envelope him in a bear hug.

 

“It’s ok…come in boys; mom is making lasagna for dinner and brownies for supper.”

 

Scott led Stiles further into the Hale house, beaming brightly, “Talia makes the best lasagna,” he told Stiles enthusiastically, “I mean, seriously, it’s the best.”

 

“Scott, you flatter me,” Talia smiled as she walked into the entry foyer of the Hale House, wearing an apron that was dusted with flour, her hair swept back into a loose bun.

 

Stiles took a moment to glance around the foyer while Talia and Scott were chatting about Talia’s lasagna recipe. Although it had only been a few days since Stiles had been staying here, it felt different…lighter and even more welcoming. From upstairs Stiles could hear the sound of children laughing and playing drifting down towards them and wondered if it was Derek’s cousins. If he remembered correctly there were six of them, plus Malia.

 

A woman walked into the room, coming from the same direction that Talia had come from. Stiles recognized her from the photographs that he had looked at while he’d been staying with the Hales as Peter’s wife, the one whose death had in part triggered the insanity that had ultimately led to Laura Hale being murdered, and Scott being bitten, and who knew what other events.

 

“Ah, Stiles, this is my sister in law, Amanda. Amanda, this is Stiles Stilinksi, Scott’s friend,” Talia introduced with a smile.

 

“Stiles, I’ve heard so much about you,” Amanda greeted, “I never thought I would get the opportunity to meet you.”

 

“Er, I never really thought I would get to meet you too. Peter never mentioned you by name…but you could tell that he missed you.”

 

“Could you?” Amanda asked, her head tilted to the side curiously in a mannerism that reminded Stiles of a dog, even though Amanda was human.

 

Stiles nodded, “Sometimes he’d get the same look on his face that my dad would get when he was thinking about my mom. That’s how I knew. I don’t think anyone else, except for maybe Derek, noticed it.”

      

“Peter’s not known for letting his emotions show, even in this reality,” Laura commented with a wry smile, “you must be super observant.”

 

“He always has been,” Scott nodded in agreement, “even when we were kids he’d notice things that no-one else did.”

 

“A good trait to have,” Amanda nodded, “It’s nice to meet you, Stiles. I’m just going to check on the kids.”

 

Stiles watched Amanda going up the stairs before he let Talia take him by the arm and lead him into the kitchen. Scott and Stiles both sat on stools at the bench, while Talia busined herself with continuing with her baking.

 

“So…how was school today, Scott?”

 

“It was okay,” Scott shrugged, “Coach hasn’t gotten any saner as time passes.”

 

Talia laughed, “Cora tells me the same thing. Matthew, Laura, Derek and Tyler all used to complain about him as well.”

 

Stiles watched the interaction, marveling at how well Talia and Scott got on, so much of a stark contrast from the early days of Scott hating Derek and going against everything the older werewolf said.

 

A sound from the archway that separated the kitchen from the foyer, however, distracted Stiles from his observation, and he turned his head, noticing that Amanda had returned, accompanied by three children, and Malia.

 

Stiles swallowed nervously as he looked at the group, his old memories of Malia, the ones tainted by the Nogitsune, trickling to the forefront of his mind. Although things in the basement in Eichen house hadn’t progressed further then making out and considerable groping on both their parts, Stiles still felt dirty over it. Malia hadn’t been in any sort of mind set to consent to that kind of activity, and Stiles had been trapped in the back of his mind, watching while the Nogitsune drove for the whole ordeal

 

The tips of Stiles’ ears tinged red when he remembered the fact that he had let Talia see all of his memories, and therefore had witnessed the whole basement scene involving her niece. Stiles’ gut churned in embarrassment ,and he shot a sideways glance at Talia to see if she’d reacted.

 

“Ah, Stiles you know Malia from your reality, of course.”

 

“Yeah…hi,” Stiles nodded politely. Malia nodded seriously in return.

 

“Hi,” She replied, “so you’re the one that everyone’s been talking about. Scott won’t shut up about you at school.”

 

“Is that so,” Stiles looked at Scott with a questioning eyebrow lifted. Scott simply shrugged and looked a little embarrassed.

  
“You are literally back from the dead, of course I’m pleased,” he defended. Stiles smirked and threw his arm around Scott’s shoulder.

 

“You are such a puppy, dude,” Stiles teased, rufflinf Scott’s hair affectionately, before pulling away.

 

“You’re Stiles…the one who saved us all from the fire?” the smallest of the children, a young boy, asked, taking a few steps closer to Stiles. Stiles immediately noticed that the kid was wearing a Captain America t-shirt.

 

“Well…sort of,” he admitted, “I like your t-shirt, by the way. Captain America is pretty awesome.”

 

“Captain America’s one of my favorite superheroes,” the boy beamed, “but I like Batman and Wolverine better.”

 

Stiles’ heart clenched painfully, remembering the batman logo etched into the gravestone beside his mothers, and the articles he’d read about the death of the version of him from this reality, and how many of those articles had highlighted the fact that Stiles had dressed up as batman the day he’d died. The way that the little boy in front of him was looking up at Stiles, the pure hero worship that Stiles could see, was like being punched in the chest.

 

It was at that moment that Stiles realized that, because of the actions of the version of himself from this reality, the three kids in front of him were still alive, Amanda was still alive, Talia was still alive, Andrew Hale was still alive, Derek’s other cousins and brothers were all still alive.

 

“What...” Stiles began, but his voice choked up. He coughed to clear his throat, and then began again.

 

“What’s your name kid?”

  
“I’m Jed, and these are my cousins Sophie and Imogen,” Jed told him, gesturing at the two girls with him. Stiles didn’t know which of the girls was Sophie, or Imogen, but he smiled at them, causing them to smile, somewhat shyly, back at him. Stiles remembered being told that Sophie and Imogen were Peter and Amanda’s eldest children, and if he thougth about it, he could see the resemblance they shared both with their father, and with Malia too.”

 

“Auntie Talia told us about how you came from a reality where everything was different,” one of the twins said, “and in that reality we all died in the fire.”

  
Stiles nodded slowly, “Yeah, most of you did,” he admitted honestly, glancing up at Amanda’s face to see if he was saying the right thing.

 

“Some things just happen differently,” he told them, “But I like to think that, if I had been in the same situation as this version of me, then I would have done the same thing and tried to help save you guys.”

 

“I’m glad you didn’t,” the other twin offered thoughtfully, “if you had tried to save us then you would have died too, and made everyone sad. I’m glad you’re here and that you’re ok and you’re making Scotty and his pack and Derek happy.”

 

Jed and the twins all walked towards Stiles, while Scott gave him a push in the back strong enough to make Stiles slide off the stool he was sitting on and onto his feet.  

As if they were waiting for Stiles to be on his feet, the three stepped even closer and Stiles, not sure what they were doing, crouched down a little so he was closer to their height.

 

Stiles hadn’t known what the three Hale kids had in mind, but the way they snuggled against him, wrapping their arms around him in a group hug was the last thing he expected, especially considering they were Derek’s cousins. Hell, the two girls were Malia’s half sisters for crying out loud, and neither Derek, nor Malia, were very cuddly people.

 

Despite his surprise at the contact, Stiles returned the hug, wrapping his arms around the three children.

 

“Thank you for making Scotty’s pack happy,” one of the twins said in his ear.

 

“Thank you for looking after Derek and Scotty’s pack in your reality,” the other twin replied.

 

“I know it wasn’t really you, but thank you for not letting us all die in the fire,” Jed added, snuggling into Stiles’ chest in between the two girls, “You’re my favourite superhero.”

 

Stiles felt warmth spread through his chest, and simply tightened his grip on the trio, feeling more than he ever had before that he had found once again, where he belonged.

 

“I’m glad that the version of me from this reality saved you guys, and I promise I’m going to do all I can to keep protecting the packs, ok.”

 

TEEN WOLF

 

Stiles was playing Mario Kart against Scott and Isaac when the doorbell rang. Isaac immediately got up to answer it, something that Stiles immediately noticed. Usually Scott and Isaac would argue about who would go and answer the door when they were playing a game in the living room, although Scott won most of the times, since Isaac hated arguments, especially when his alpha was on the other side. The only time Isaac occasionally won was when Melissa stepped in or Scott felt guilty about something.

 

“Did something happen at school today?” Stiles asked as Isaac opened the front door and let whoever it was in. Scott frowned, his character falling off the track in rainbow road yet again.

 

“No, why?”

 

“You guys didn’t argue, it just made me think that something must have happened at school.”

 

“Nothing happened,” Scott told him, “Maybe it’s Kira and they’ve got stuff planned.”

 

“Scott…I probably knew more about your abilities than, well, my version of you did anyway. I know that you can tell who it is that is here. Hell, Isaac can tell who it is from here without having Alpha powers. Even I can tell that it was way more people than just Kira.

 

Scott cringed and managed to drive off the track again as Stiles drove over the finish line.    

“Well, he’s got you there, McCall,” Jackson offered from the living room doorway, where he stood with Danny, Isaac, Lydia and Allison. They all entered the room, making themselves comfortable around Stiles and Scott. Melissa and the Sherriff, who had been having a quiet cup of coffee in the kitchen, followed the teenagers into the room.

 

“What’s the pack meeting about?” Stiles asked curiously. Danny shot the Sherriff an apprehensive look, and the Sherriff held up his hand in response.

 

“Don’t look at me…I approved of this plan. I don’t know how else we were going to pull this off.”

 

Danny visibly relaxed and opened the zip of the backpack he was carrying slung over his shoulder. He reached into it and pulled out a bunch of files, passing them over to Stiles.

 

“What’s this?”

 

“Your life back,” Lydia replied with a smile. Stiles’ hands shook a little as he opened the folder on top, his heart leaping into his mouth as he saw the birth certificate sitting there innocently, identical to his own, save for a couple of features. His old first name was now his middle name, and the date of birth was a week later than his actual birthday. The people identified as his parents were different, instead listed as his aunt and uncle who Stiles had never met because of some long running disagreement between his dad and his uncle.

 

The next page in the file was adoption papers, dated only recently; clearly stating that John Stilinski had adopted his ‘nephew,’ and there for all custodial and parental responsibilities in relation to Stiles were his.

 

Stiles knew all of the documents were forgeries, obviously made by Danny, or at least organized by Danny, but he was suddenly struck by the fact that Jackson was right. He’d never be able to go back to using his old name again, the death of his ten year old self was to recent, and too widely reported to make that possible, but now, with the documentation in his hand, he could get his license again, and go back to school, and begin the process of getting his life back to normal.

 

“It’s all there…birth Certificate, social security number, adoption papers, academic transcripts for the school, everything,” Danny told everyone in the room, “Everything you need to start your life over again. Deaton’s…done his druid thing…on it, which will stop anyone from paying too much attention to them, so they shouldn’t cause any issues.”

 

“They’re great…thanks Danny,” Stiles nodded, his voice catching with emotion as he passed the files to his dad to look over, “I really appreciate it.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Danny shrugged, “you’ve been through hell, literally. It’s the least I can do.”


	21. Chapter 21

Stiles read over the notes he had copied from Lydia’s school work, relieved to know that there wasn’t any difference between what was taught at Beacon Hills High School between the two realities. Really he’d only missed a few weeks of school, and with the help of the rest of the pack he’d quickly caught back up, ready for him to start back at school.

 

It had been easy for the Sherriff to enroll him in Beacon Hills high school; thanks to the paperwork that Danny had organized. He was back in the same classes that he had been in before the Nogitsune, and he knew that he had at least one member of the pack with him in every class. Scott had even suggested that Stiles join up with the Lacrosse team again, but Stiles wasn’t so sure. He knew that he hadn’t physically recovered from the way his weight had plummeted following the Nogitsune, and then the drama with the Necromancer, so he wasn’t sure if taking up contact sport once again was a good idea.

 

Time had trickled by quickly, and today was the day before Stiles was supposed to go back to school, or rather, have his first day of school, granted that he was supposed to be a brand new student. It was going to be interesting having to pretend to not know where anything was, and to not know any of the teachers, or anything about the school.

 

Scott was working at Deaton’s clinic, and Isaac was on a date with Kira, leaving Stiles alone to go over his notes and fight the anxiety about going back to school that was beginning to churn in his stomach.

 

Stiles hadn’t ever really been apprehensive about going to school. Sure, there had been periods over the years when staying at home had sounded much more enjoyable, but Stiles had never really felt this anxious about going to school. He knew some of it stemmed from the last time he’d been to school, when the school had literally blown up around them, killing almost all of his classmates and teachers, including Lydia, Isaac, Liam, Danny, Ethan, Coach, and Lydia’s mother.

 

Sometimes, in Stiles’ nightmares, he still remembered feeling the heat of the explosions against his skin as Lydia’s last scream echoed in his ears, louder than all of the other screams of terror and horror that had been heard that day. He remembered how Scott and Kira had both been in the same class as him, and how Kira and Scott had both protectively dived over him, with Scott shielding Kira as well as Stiles with his body as the building had been destroyed. He barely remembered scrambling to his feet afterwards, helping Kira find Scott, who had gotten up immediately after the initial explosion to go and find Liam or Lydia or Isaac, only to be knocked unconscious mere feet from Liam’s body. Stiles and Kira had carried Scott to freedom in between them, hauling the unconscious Alpha through the rubble, past the dead bodies of their classmates, people that Stiles had known and grown up alongside.

 

Derek had arrived only minutes later, scooping Scott up in a bridal hold and carrying him to his car, while Stiles and Kira got the Jeep, and they all sped back to the Hale house, hiding in the tunnels beneath the remains of the house while they patched Scott up from his injuries and anxiously waited for him to heal.

 

No matter how many times Stiles tried to tell himself…convince himself that the school wouldn’t be destroyed again…that he would be safe there, that there was no sign of the necromancer that had staked her claim on Beacon Hills, and had killed the surviving members of the pack until it was only Stiles left.

 

Stiles knew that the werewolves of the pack had noticed the amount of anxiety in Stiles’ scent was increasing. Scott, Isaac, Erica and Liam had all asked him how he felt about going back to school and if they could do anything to help, and even Jackson had told him that he had nothing to worry about, and that if anyone gave him a hard time Jackson would deal with it personally, a gesture that Stiles hadn’t expected from Jackson.

 

Still, despite the gentle support from the rest of the pack, Stiles hadn’t been able to help but feel more and more anxious about going back to school with each day that passed until the day when he would walk into Beacon Hills High School once again.

 

“You ok, buddy?” Stiles turned his head, looking up at the Sherriff who was leaning against the archway that separated the dining room from the kitchen.

 

Stiles shrugged, “I think I’m as caught up as I’m going to get,” he admitted, closing his folder up, as well as Lydia’s school work, so he could return it to her the next day.

 

“I wasn’t actually referring to the school work,” the Sherriff pointed out, “Not that I don’t think it’s important.”

 

“The last time I went to school it blew up,” Stiles admitted, “Lydia, Isaac, Liam, Danny and Ethan all died, and Scott was really badly hurt. He, Kira and I were the only members of the pack that were there that walked away from it.”

 

“If you’re not ready yet I can call the school, make some excuse.”

 

“No,” Stiles shook his head, “It’s been long enough. I can’t keep letting what happened to my pack in the other reality rule me. It’s like, I’m trying to move on, but there’s parts of me that won’t let go of what happened, that every time I try to adapt and adjust to this reality I remember something from my old pack ,and it hurts so much.

 

“Come here, kid,” The Sherriff offered, and Stiles got up and went willingly to the Sherrif, letting the older man put his arms around him in a tight, reassuring hug.

 

“You’re going to be ok. It might not be tomorrow, or next week, or even six months from now, but one day you’re going to be ok, and it’ll all hurt less, and the memories won’t be as painful. Until then, you’ve got me, and Melissa, and Scott and the pack, and we’re all here for you, we’ve got your back.”

 

“Thanks dad,” Stiles replied, deliberately using the word dad. He felt the Sherriff’s stance stiffen slightly, before he simply hugged Stiles even tighter.

 

“Come on, there is something I want to show you. I was going to hold it off for a little longer, give you a little more time to adjust, but I think you need the cheering up today.”

 

The Sherriff pulled back and led Stiles away from the kitchen, to the front of the house, where he grabbed something that Stiles didn’t see from the drawer of the hallway stand. Stiles frowned curiously as he followed the Sherriff out the front door and down off the front porch. The Sherriff moved his hand and Stiles realized that the object the Sherriff had retrieved from the hallway stand was the remote control for a roller door.

 

Stiles hadn’t gone anywhere near the garage since he’d arrived at the Stilinski-McCall residence. He’d assumed that the garage would be just like the one of his old home in his original reality, used only for storing junk that didn’t get regularly used, and therefore wasn’t very interesting. It was probably the only area of his new home (except for his dad and Melissa’s bedroom) that Stiles hadn’t visited at some point. He, Isaac and Scott had even spent one afternoon recently up in the attic looking for something for Melissa. In the process they’d found quite a bit of Stiles’ childhood stuff, including his baby albums, and some of his childhood artwork that is mother had decided to keep.

 

The Sherriff pressed the button on the remote and the door began to rise, and it didn’t take long for Stiles to realize that he’d been wrong about the things stored in this garage, compared with the garage back home.

 

As the roller door lifted Stiles first caught sight of the rear wheels of a car, the body of which was carefully covered, but the shape was unmistakable.

 

“Roscoe?” he choked out, taking a few tentative steps forward. The Sherriff had laughed, clapping his hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

 

“She’s all good, buddy, I took good care of her for you and your mom.”

 

Stiles, knew that his mouth was hanging open as he shot a grateful look over his shoulder at the Sherriff as he walked into the garage, reaching out with a shaking hand to pull the cover off the car. It slid off easily, revealing Roscoe it all her glory, her paintwork clean, free of the dints that she’d gained due to Stiles’ putting her though all sorts of werewolf shenanigans.      

 

Tentatively, almost reverently, Stiles ran his hand along the Jeep’s bodywork, his eyes misting over as he remembered the last time he’d seen the car, out the front of the Hale house as he walked away from it.

 

“Hey, girl…I missed you,” he whispered, tears leaking his eyes as he pressed his forehead against the driver’s side window.

 

“Derek, Erica and Isaac looked her over last week when Scott took you over to the Hales to Talia, and Derek took her to get new tires when we were sorting thing out with the school. She’s probably running even better now than she was back when your mother was alive. She had a full service a few months ago, but I don’t get much time to drive her. I know that when your mom stopped driving she told you that one day Roscoe would be yours, once you were old enough to drive her, and, well, as an added benefit, it means that you won’t have to car pool with Scott and Allison. Trust me; I’ve been in the car with those two before…I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

 

Stiles let out a wet sounding snort, “I know what you mean,” he agreed with a wry smile, “it used to be so sickening to watch…almost painful. Nobody deserves witnessing that.

 

”Good thing you’re all legal again then,” The Sherriff offered, jangling the keys for the Jeep in his hand as he pulled them from his pocket, before he tossed them towards Stiles. Stiles caught them, fingering the familiar metal, just the same shape as he remembered.

 

“Thanks dad,” he smiled, his eyes shining with unshed tears and his voice catching with emotion. It didn’t take long for the Sherriff to cover the distance between them, pulling Stiles into a gentle embrace, cupping his hand protectively over the back of Stiles’ head.

 

“It’s ok,” He told Stiles, “I’ve got you, it’s ok.”

 

The words enough to send Stiles’ mental barriers crashing down, and he broke into sobs, clinging to the front of the jacket the Sherriff was wearing burying his face into the older man’s shoulder. The material beneath Stiles’ face quickly became moist with Stiles’ tears, but Stiles barely noticed, lost in his own emotions and thoughts, memories dancing through his mind, although for the first time in awhile, they weren’t about the pack…about everyone he’d lost since he’d been thrown into the supernatural world, but instead about his mother, and memories of her slow, drawn out illness and eventual death.

 

Stiles didn’t know how long he and the Sherriff stood in the garage, fully visible from the street, clinging to one another as Stiles sobbed, but eventually his tears stopped and he pulled away, wiping his face with the back of his hand and opening his mouth to speak, but the Sherriff spoke before Stiles even had a chance.

 

“Don’t even think about apologizing for crying like that, Stiles.”

 

Snapping his jaw shut, Stiles simply looked up at the Sherriff. The Sherriff slung one of his arms over Stiles’ shoulder.

 

“Come on,” he offered gently, let’s take the ol’ girl for a spin and see how she goes, yeah?”

 

Stiles couldn’t fight the smile the crossed his face at the very prospect of driving his beloved Jeep once again.

 

TEEN WOLF

 

Although Stiles wouldn’t ever admit it to the rest of his pack or the Sherriff, going back to school was perhaps the easiest part about jumping from his original reality. Everything was so…familiar, from Finstock’s lectures to Mrs. Martin’s smiling face, to the familiar layout of the building.

 

Thanks to Lydia, Stiles was already ahead in his classes, so it wasn’t too difficult to get back into the familiar routine of go to school, go home, do homework, work on any assignments, repeat.

 

The strangest part about it all was the strange looks Stiles would get when one of the Pack called him Stiles. Most of his classmates remembered the version of him that originally lived, and died, in this timeline, but Stiles, the pack, and the Sherriff had been able to avoid any issues by simply saying that it was a popular name among young male members of the family. Enough years had passed that, luckily, the rest of his classmates shrugged it off, although Stiles wasn’t sure how much of that was due to Deaton’s spell that made people ignore any discrepancies in his paperwork.

 

Despite being the new kid, Stiles didn’t have to worry about getting new friends, thanks to the pack already taking him in, although Stiles had almost cried on his first day when Heather had walked into his English classroom, memories of the day when he’d seen her body laid out in the morgue still fresh in his mind.

 

Despite the fact that it technically was a completely different building, Stiles couldn’t help but relive his memories of things that had happened in the halls of the school, not just the explosion that killed Lydia, Isaac and Liam, among many others. He knew the classroom where Ms Blake had stabbed his father, the corridors that Peter had chased he and Scott through, the spot where Stiles had collapsed after the Nogitsune had finally been defeated, the spot in the bleachers where his dad had sat the night of the Lacrosse final, the patch of the lacrosse field where Peter had attacked Lydia.

 

In this timeline, however, none of those things had ever happened, and it didn’t take all that long for Stiles get into the habit of remembering the good things that happened at his old school, as well as beginning to gather new memories of this realities version of the School.

 

One such occasion took place during Stiles’ second week at the school. Scott, Isaac, Jackson, Danny, Kira and Liam all had lacrosse training, and Stiles hadn’t felt like heading back home, knowing that both the Sherriff and Melissa would be at work until late that night, so he had stayed behind, sitting in the bleachers and working on his homework, half watching what was going on in front of him on the field. It was entertaining to watch Coach put the team through their paces, with Greenberg’s lack of skill made all the more obvious with four werewolves and a kitsune on the team.

 

Eventually the training had ended, and all of the non supernatural members of the team staggered towards the locker room to shower, get changed, and then go home, but Scott, Kira, Isaac, Liam and Jackson stayed out on the field, practicing passes and playfully tacking one another. Stiles waited until Coach had left before he came down off the bleachers, stepping foot on the Lacrosse field and approaching the other teenagers.

 

“Still got energy to burn, huh?” Stiles asked casually. Jackson beamed.

 

“Stiles, good, you know how to play?”

 

“Yeah, I was on the team back…back at home, why?”

 

“We need another play for three a side. Danny had to go and do something with his dad,” Jackson told him, “You can borrow his Crosse.”

 

“Er, have you guys forgotten that I’m human?’ Stiles asked, more than a little nervously. He knew, painfully well, how into Lacrosse his pack mates could get, even during training.

 

“You can borrow my padding, if you want,” Liam offered helpfully, his eyes echoing the sad puppy face that Scott had perfected as a child, and obviously taught to his youngest beta. Stiles knew he didn’t really have a chance, especially when he looked over at Scott and saw that his best friend was giving him the sad eyes too.

 

“Ok, fine, just don’t knock how shit I am at this, it’s been a while.”

 

It didn’t take long for Stiles to get Liam’s protective gear on, and for Jackson to retrieve Danny’s Crosse, which made Stiles suspect that this had been the pack’s plan all along. Stiles was placed on Scott and Liam’s team, with the reasoning that Scott was physically the strongest out of all of them, and would help counter out Stiles’ humanity, while Liam, with less control than any of the others, would be less likely to lose control and attack a team mate. It also meant that Isaac and Kira were on the same team, which was a disadvantage in itself as Isaac had a habit of getting distracted by Kira’s presence…something which reminded Stiles vividly and painfully of Scott and Allison in the early days of their relationship.

 

Despite the fact that his pack had never done anything like this…not with Jackson and Liam anyway…it had felt almost normal for Stiles to stand with Scott and Liam at the start of their mini game.

 

It seemed like it had been eons since he’d last done something fun like this. He’d spent time with the pack since his introduction to them in this reality, but playing a few rounds of Mario Kart was one thing. This…this was something else entirely. Stiles couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face as the game began.

 

Sure, it was a disadvantage for him being the only human in the game, but the way the others played, it wasn’t too bad. Stiles still got the ball just as much as the others did, and he even managed to score a few goals, his muscle memory taking over as, even after such a long time without playing Lacrosse, it all came back to him.

 

The game continued on until an angry shout echoed across the field.

 

“McCall…Whittemore…I told you guys to go home already.”

 

Stiles took advantage of Jackson being distracted by Coach’s return to the Lacrosse field and scored another goal, before he turned and faced Coach Finstock.

 

“Sorry Coach,” Scott apologized sheepishly, “we were just messing around.”

 

“Don’t you all have homework to do?” Coach sighed, rubbing a weary hand over his face. Stiles was up to date, thanks to his study session during actual lacrosse practice, but Isaac visibly winced at the reminder of the homework he had waiting for him.

 

“We’ll just go now,” Scott reassured Coach, beginning to walk towards the bleachers, where Stiles had left his belonging. Finstock nodded, casting his eyes over the group, before his gaze fell on Stiles.

 

“Stilinski, is it? The new kid?”

 

“Yes Sir,” Stiles nodded, more than a little surprised that Coach knew his name, even though Stiles had him as a teacher.

 

“Nice work on those passes and shots at goal, you’ve got some decent skills…better than Greenberg anyway. Ever think about joining the team?”

 

“Er…” Stiles flustered, having not expected the question, “yeah, I mean, I was on the Lacrosse team back…back at my old school, and I enjoyed it, so, yeah, I guess that would be ok.”

 

“The next training session is on Thursday, you can try out then. I’m sure these nut jobs,” Coach gestured at the others, “will tell you that I work my players hard, and that I expect them to take the game seriously, understand?”

 

“Yes Coach.”

 

“Good. See you on Thursday, and for god’s sake all of you have a shower, you all stink.”

 

“Yes Coach,” Liam smiled as Coach turned and walked back the way he had come, back towards the teacher’s car park.

 

“So…wanna show us that video of you playing in your Lacrosse final now?” Kira asked lightly once Coach was out of earshot.


End file.
